


Blackmarked

by GarGoyl



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood Drinking, Demon Deals, Drug Use, F/M, Magic, Master & Servant, Romance, True Love, Underworld, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:32:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 41,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4898617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarGoyl/pseuds/GarGoyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. A series of unfortunate events will make young Elizaveta Hedervary's quiet life in London, promising career in the City and secret crush on her charming boss go down the drain, but unexpected hope and a new romance will bloom in the deepest darkness. A PruHun tale of black magic. I don't own Hetalia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

A/N – Hello everyone! After more than a month of break from the beautiful and dangerously addictive world of fanfiction writing (my fellow authors must surely know what I’m talking about, heh) I am back with a new story for a new pairing. To be honest, I’ve had this is mind for a long time now, but Hell, I swore to myself to quit starting a million things and then have them dragging about, so I postponed it until everything else was finished. Well, _almost_ everything else. But enough tales of my poor workload management, here’s the first chap, so enjoy!

* * *

 

Loud laughter came from the kitchen almost in the same time with the blasted alarm on her cell phone and Elizaveta kicked the covers aside already irked, even if still half asleep. Slender fingers gripped the ringing device, effectively silencing it with a long-practiced push of buttons before the brunette hauled herself up and shook the tangled locks away from her eyes. Nothing like fucking Monday mornings, she thought ill-humoredly.

A pleasant smell of strong coffee beckoned her into the small kitchen where her stepbrother Feliks and his boyfriend were sat at the table, chatting over a pile of freshly toasted bread and bacon and eggs. Hell, at least they cooked and cleaned, seeing how they weren’t doing much of anything else. Technically (if that was the word) Toris was in medical school and Feliks was doing some obscure art and fashion major, but neither had ever had a permanent job or something from which regular income could be derived. Feliks was getting a monthly allowance from his mother, but where exactly that went apart from tuition fees was a mystery better left unexplored, so it was pretty much up to Elizaveta to financially support this essentially creepy ménage-a-trois which wasn’t even a ménage-a-trois. Hell, a ménage-a-trois would have at least been fun.

The Hungarian poured a steaming cup of coffee from the filter and sat down, absently reaching for a piece of toast. She told herself that if only she hadn’t been working such ungodly long hours, maybe she would have _afforded_ having a relationship too. But that was just the excuse, the painful truth was that she took refuge in work and professional ambition to deny the ever-growing crush she had on a certain man who would probably never respond to her feelings.

* * *

 

In the end, as it sadly happened most days, again she hadn’t been able to get ready and leave before 8:30. Leaving home early enough in order to make it to the office at 9:00 without racing up the stairs or wrestling her way into the packed elevators remained an unattainable goal and Elizaveta paused at the top of the stairs to straighten up her deux piece jacket and smoothen her long pony tail before heading towards their offices. But as soon as she looked up from her clothes, the young accountant was met with a bizarre sight – the matted glass doors which bore the name Beilschmidt, Edelstein& Karpusi – Accounting, Audit and Tax Advisory in large embossed letters were wide open and there were even some scattered papers visible inside down onto the carpeted hallway.

What could have possibly happened, today of all days? The staff came in at 9:00 A.M. sharp, but the partners didn’t usually arrive until 9:30, so she had been hoping for at least half an hour of extra work on the project Ludwig had assigned her, but now… the place looked oddly deserted and upon checking her watch Elizaveta noted that it was already 9:10.

“Vee, maybe I’ll have your access card blocked one of these days,” a familiar voice said, nearly making the Hungarian jump. The unpleasant remark had come from none other than Feliciano Vargas, Ludwig’s personal secretary. The little Italian who was always impecably dressed and always on some sort of diet to keep in perfect shape threw a disdainful and purposeful glance at her last-year shoes and sighed with a scowl.

“What’s going on?”

Feliciano crossed his arms, sporting a sour look. “The police was here earlier, they took some files and stuff…”

“WHAT?!”

Elizaveta felt an icy pang in her stomach. The police rarely showed up in the tall, fancy office buildings of the City, but when they did come… it was bad. “B-But why?!”

“Some shit happened with Turkish-French Tobacco Exports and their custom tax returns,” the auburn-haired young man replied boredly. “There’s something up with the figures they declared, smells like a little fraud to the HMRC.”

Turkish-French Tobacco Exports had been one of their major bookkeeping clients in the past, but recently they’d centralized all their accounting in a service center in Ireland, so Beilschmidt, Edelstein& Karpusi was now only involved with preparing and submitting their tax returns.

“How little…?”

“Around eight million pounds, and they said-”

“Feli, get Roderich on the phone and tell him to come to the office, NOW!” the German partner shouted from his office, interrupting, and the secretary hurried back to his desk.

Drawing a shaky breath, Elizaveta walked slowly towards her own small office, only to discover that her laptop was gone and the shelves were mostly empty of files. The two desk drawers looked like someone had gone through them as well and the brunette felt tears pricking her eyes. She had nothing of particular value at work, but in three years with the firm she’d gotten used to her tidy little corner and it felt too much like an intrusion. Dropping her bag onto the now empty desk, she did her best to compose herself and turned towards Ludwig Beilschmidt’s office.

The Accounting Partner, the most confident man she’d ever met, was now slumped over his desk, head in his hands and looking uncharacteristically disheveled.    

“Is it true, sir?” Elizaveta asked, causing the cerulean blue eyes to look up at her tiredly.

Ludwig nodded. “Yes. We’ve been accused of tax evasion, together with our client. The contract makes us jointly liable….” He drew a breath, making an effort to sit up straight in his chair. “Miss Hedervary, I don’t know how to tell you this… it’s true that Heracles Karpusi is the Tax Partner, but since the files were uploaded on the firm’s intranet, like everything else we usually work on, it means all of us had access to them and anyone could have manipulated the data. That is to say, we are all involved and going down at the deep end. We are effectively facing prison time unless otherwise proven.”

The Hungarian was petrified, at a loss of what to say.

“What am I going to tell the juniors? They came here to work and learn and… they’ll find themselves faced with a criminal record. _Verdammt_!”

“But… Mr. Karpusi was in charge of the TFTE contract! What does _he_ say?”

The blond sighed. “Heracles Karpusi is gone, Miss Hedervary. He can’t be reached and Feliciano discovered this morning that the lease contract on his apartment here in London has expired two weeks ago. I can only assume that he was planning to disappear for a while now…”

* * *

 

She hadn’t had a smoke in quite a long while, but now it really wasn’t the moment to hold back. Elizaveta stepped out on the balcony of the small kitchenette and lit up a smoke still numb with shock, proceeding to take a long drag.

“But I thought we were checking all the figures given, as well as the supporting documentation…”

“All the juniors have ever done was to put some figures together and make some correlations at most. _He_ was reviewing everything, including the documents! Hell, he even had connections at the damned customs!” Ludwig was yelling, while the Audit Partner – Roderich Edelstein – was cowering behind his desk, as if attempting to make himself smaller in his seat. “And I don’t buy this bullshit that Bonnefoy and Adnan didn’t know what was going on! They must have paid him to do this!”

Edelstein shook his head, helpless. “And we thought he was lazing around, sleeping….”

“No! He wasn’t sleeping, he was fucking us! Hard!” The German slammed his fist on the polished surface, knocking over a fancy pencil jar. “Roderich, I know you have some high-up connections and now’s the time to pull some strings!”

But the blue-eyed brunet appeared terrified by the suggestion. “Oh…I-I couldn’t… I don’t believe-…”

“Then get used to the idea that you won’t be playing any more piano where you’re going!”

Edelstein burst into tears and buried his face in his hands, making Elizaveta’s heart sink in turn. She couldn’t bear to see him like this, it was too much. Goodness, not him! It had been a year before, at a charity gala jointly funded by the firm when she had seen the Austrian partner play the piano, his long, elegant and ethereally pale fingers ghosting over the ivory keys with infinite skill, eyelids hooding those dark blue, amazingly intense eyes, and she had realized that she’d fallen in love with him. Totally. Completely.

That was why the brunette could hardly believe when she saw him getting up from his desk eventually, crossing the hallway with steady steps and walking to where she was still standing, smoke forgotten and early autumn wind ruffling some stray hairs from her ponytail, and motioned towards her pack of cigarettes.

“May I have one too, please?” Roderich asked, voice hoarse and faltering slightly.

Elizaveta handed it over without hesitation and even helped him light up, because his hand was shaking too badly.

“ _Mein Gott_ , what will I do now?” he asked suddenly, gaze trained absently somewhere in the distance, at the cloudy sky over the rooftops. “What will my family say? What will my husband say? _Gott_ , what will I tell Vash?!”

_Husband_.

The word hit her in the face like a violent punch. He was _married_. To a man. Three years and only now she would hear of this! Her eyes flicked to his pale hands, but there was no wedding band to be seen. Obviously, in the uptight and often conservative finance world it must have been something better kept under wraps. Of course, none of this mattered. She felt horribly inadequate all the sudden, and something collapsed irremediably inside of her being, just as Roderich laid his head on her shoulder, whimpering softly, and wrapped his arms around her in a mindless search for comfort.     

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Edelstein.”

* * *

 

Yet Elizaveta wasn’t able to fully grasp the gravity of what was going until she actually went home and gave the awful news to her stepbrother.

“But how can they accuse you of something you’ve not done?!” Feliks protested. “Shouldn’t they be after that missing bastard? The fact that he’s gone isn’t proof enough that he’s the guilty one?!”

“It is, but to the police and the HMRC that doesn’t mean he’s worked alone. They need to determine who else may have helped him and until the investigation is over everyone is a suspect.”

“Elizaveta, promise me that you didn’t get yourself involved in something you shouldn’t have,” the blond said seriously, crossing his arms.

The Hungarian blinked, dumbstruck. “How can you ask me that?! How can you fucking think such a thing?! Thanks a lot for the support, Feliks!”

She stormed into her small bedroom and slammed the door so hard that tiny crumbs of mortar fell from around the frame. Ungrateful little prick, how dared he? But she was more hurt than angry, horribly hurt, everything was so damn unfair! Indeed, it was hard to say which was worse, because as absurd as it may have sounded, this absurd and overwhelming feeling of being unloved was momentarily more dreadful than the possibility of doing time and having her career prospects utterly ruined after so many years of hard work.

Her brooding didn’t last long. It was cut abruptly when something akin to a smaller-scale explosion was heard outside her room, and loud shouting erupted immediately afterwards. The brunette sprang from the bed and rushed to the door, cracking it open cautiously, but enough to see the front door of the apartment ajar and to ascertain that the noise was coming from the kitchen (everything always happened in that fucking, miniscule space for some fucked-up reason!).   

With light steps, Elizaveta made her way down the short hall to see what the fuss was about. And what she was faced with was the sight of a gun muzzle pointed at Feliks by a silvery blonde girl she recognized as Natalya Arlovskaya, their infamous landowner’s sister. Both the man and his two younger sisters had a vaguely sinister reputation, but they’d lived untroubled so far, so the Hungarian would never have imagined-

“You will pay, or I’ll blow your pretty little sister’s brains out! How about that?” the blonde said, shifting the focus of the deadly object in her dainty hand towards Elizaveta.

“I’ll totally pay, I’ll give you the money, I swear! I fucking swear! Just-…” the Pole pleaded, helplessly gesturing for her to put the gun away.

‘What money’ his sister mouthed, inaudibly and ignored by everyone. This was unreal, after all the shit of today, now a gun in her face.

“So you’ve been saying, but time’s up, pretty boy,” Natalya replied, fingers adjusting their grip on the gun and thumb pulling back the safety demonstratively.  “Maybe you don’t understand this one thing: you don’t screw with Ivan Braginski and get away with it. If there’s fault, there _will be_ damage!”

“No! No, please-“

“How about I take _her_ upstairs?” the Belarusian suggested. “Putting her ass to work won’t pay up the whole amount but it’ll pay something-“

Then everything happened in a sort of sick slow motion, or so the brunette’s brain registered it. Just when Natalya was giving her a thoughtful, assessing once-over, the steel muzzle lowered somewhat, Feliks suddenly moved, grabbing a chair by the backrest and shoving it at Arlovskaya with full strength. She was violently propelled through the imitation of French window which happened to be open and disappeared through the fluttering curtains with a bloodcurdling shriek. Elizaveta had dropped to the ground on instinct, or maybe shock was at fault, her forehead colliding painfully with the tiled floor.

“I think someone should call an ambulance…” Toris said, peering over the small, rusty railing.

“God, is she-“

“Nah, she hit the trash cans. And it’s only the second floor.”

Elizaveta blinked, hands moving down absently to rub her aching knees as she stared at the window in disbelief. Did they just-…?

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much money do you owe Ivan, Feliks?” she asked again, fully straightening her back and turning to face the younger sibling. His hands were still clutching the backrest of the metal chair, as if ready to swing it again if need be, and he worried his bottom lip in search of the right answer, only there wasn’t such a thing.

“Uh… about 7000… It wasn’t that much, but they charged interest or something. We bought some _stuff_ , okay? I, like totally need inspiration, I cannot work, cannot _create_ without… whatever, and Toris has so many exams to study for and stuff. I’m sorry, Eli, I never thought things would get out of hand like this-”

“ _Out of hand_?! You owe Ivan fucking Braginski 7000 fucking pounds for drugs?! Not that it matters now, because you just pushed his fucking sister off the window so WE’RE FUCKING DEAD!” the brunette yelled. “HE’S GOING TO FUCKING KILL US!”

“Guys, we have to leave! W-We can’t stay here anymore, we need to get out of here and we have to get out of here like fucking now!” Toris pointed. 

“Yeah, but only if you weren’t under police investigation, we could like even leave the country! We could go back!” the blond added. “Now we’re like totally stuck here, aren’t we?”

Elizaveta snorted, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Go _back_?! Back where, Poland? Hungary? Braginski is part of a fucking francize, do you think there’s any place where he wouldn’t find us?!”

The two boys fell silent at this and indeed, not much left to be said as things were. They were completely, utterly fucked.

**To be continued**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! It’s good to be back and I’m so grateful for all the support this story is getting already, I was pleasantly surprised ;) And now, we’re on the way of discovering where black magic comes into this story. Enjoy the new chap!  

* * *

The black mare slowed her pace and her nostrils flared a bit, letting out a snort and blowing out a soft cloud of steam. She was rather unsettled and the gloved hand patting the side of her neck did little to reassure her. Everything was so strange lately. Gilbert figured it might have helped to think of something else, to find some distraction. But what he could think of?

Every single thing was triggering in some way, even Hilde. He rather liked Hilde, she was pretty and soft-spoken, and the fragrance of the wild flowers she wore in her hair had lingered in his nostrils indefinitely. Nothing like the bitter and poisonous woman his brother had married, the reason he would rather take part in a bloody, exhausting war which dragged on and on without resolution than live in _that house_ , with them. That thought alone annoyed him, and then there had been the omen, or at least he’d taken it that way.

It would have been a mistake, Gilbert thought, the reins loose in his hands and his legs relaxed in the stirrups. Hilde wouldn’t like someone like him, and if he were to write it would make her uncomfortable and put an awkward strain on all future words passed between them. But _he had tried_ to write, that very afternoon. Only that the glass of wine long abandoned on the table had unexpectedly spilled over the few words he’d mustered, tainting the white sheet like blood gushing from an ugly flesh wound carved on pale skin. It had spilled so brusquely and overwhelmingly that he’d jumped from his seat and had barely avoided getting his trousers stained.

And now this reconnaissance mission had been a very bad idea. His superiors wouldn’t see it though; they leaned over the spread maps puffing their pipes and wanted to know where the Austrians were hiding in wait. And they only saw the candle-lit, yellow paper of their maps, not the thick forest lying ahead, not the fog, not the growing darkness of the cold autumn evening.  

Gilbert had gotten lost from the rest of the small group – which had probably ceased being a group anyway - he could no longer hear the muffled sound of hoofs through the layer of dead leaves or the occasional snort of moving horses, only the eerie songs of the forest. It did not worry him too much though; he’d kept a straight line since leaving the village camp and had not gone very far as it was, so getting back shouldn’t have been a problem. The light was gradually fading, but he could still make out his surroundings quite well, and thought he would distinguish the enemy’s white uniforms among the elongated shadows of the trees.

It was getting colder and colder though, and Gilbert let out a muttered swear, shrugging helplessly in the uniform coat and adjusting his hat. Just as he did so, he caught sight of a small hut nestled between thick trunks, only a bit further away. Cautiously, the Prussian dismounted, loosely tying the reins of the still nervous horse to a tree, then proceeded to creep towards the house on foot, as inconspicuously as possible.  

It couldn’t have been too many men in such small a place, if indeed there were any. Maybe a couple of scouts, sent to identify their positions as well? Although they’d occupied the village two weeks prior and by now-

Gilbert stopped dead in his tracks and his hand instinctively descended to the hilt of his sword as the small, wooden door opened and an old woman stepped out, looking at him directly.   

A man with more of a desire to live would have run for cover, lost himself in the depths of the forest before the enemy would have even laid eyes on him, in case the woman would have alerted any Austrian soldiers hiding under her roof. But Gilbert did not have such a will to live. Indeed, what had he to live for? He would fight, for it was his duty, but aside from that he really had nothing.

But the woman did not stir, long white locks which had escaped the confines of her shawl dancing in the breeze. Yet she was not motionless due to fear, on the contrary, there was a smug, almost pleased expression on her wrinkled face.

“I have been waiting for you, Prussian,” she said, out of the blue. “You’re just as I pictured you. Everything I want.”

Gilbert scowled, ignoring her nonsense and trying to peer past her thin frame, into the house. But no one else came at the sound of her voice, there was only empty darkness beyond the doorframe, so he concluded that she must have been some hag living alone in the middle of the woods. Maybe she’d been banished from the very village he’d come from because she was crazy and people were tired of her bullshit.

He sighed and turned, looking over to where he’d tied his horse.  The black mare snorted and even pulled at her harness, appearing even more agitated than before.

“You have an empty heart, untouched by love, and a blade which has tasted blood more than once,” the hag went on.

“Shut up, you crazy witch!” the Prussian snapped, taking a few steps forward, hand still on the hilt of his sword. “Are you alone in there? Have you seen any soldiers around here?”

The woman chuckled. “Oh, I have seen plenty of soldiers. Had my pick from the very best, you see. And now it’s your turn, Gilbert Beilschmidt!”

“What-… How the hell do you know my name?!”

“If you did not have a handsome face, I would chop off your head and throw it in the lake for all it’s worth. Not working at all,” she said. “But as it is, I wouldn’t want to waste a good thing, so I will settle for carving out your heart.”

Gilbert saw the danger when it was too late to run from it, and too late to fight it.The sword only drawn in the last moment dropped on the ground from his limp hand, giving a last pale gleam before being swallowed by the carpet of dead leaves.

* * *

The witch looked up at the crows perched on the surrounded branches, countless black, bead-like eyes trained upon that sole thing of interest, namely the bloodied corpse lying on the ground. She waved one bony hand in direction of the village.

“Fly west, there will be a battle there tomorrow. On my account you’ll only go hungry again, dumb birds. Have you not yet learned that I don’t share my prey? Why are you so stupid? Why the hell is _everyone_ so stupid these days?!

She snorted and spit on the ground and the birds took off with sharp cries.

* * *

 

Elizaveta sighed, throwing an almost dismayed glance around the matchbox-sized living, taking in the shabby couch, stained carpet and cheap coffee table. In a corner there was an ancient TV someone had put their foot through or something, and that was a bugger, because apparently it made it count like ‘a suite with a TV’ and thus the rent was higher, even if said TV was practically fucked.

But this miniscule and absolutely shit place was all Toris could manage to find on a very short notice and they’d moved right in after gathering a few essential belongings from their apartment and leaving everything else behind. They’d been out the door almost as soon as the ambulance had come to pick up Natalya. 

She would let the boys take the living and the extendable couch (they hadn’t yet checked if the ‘extendable’ thing was working or not) and take the adjacent _bedroom_ for herself. Goodness, it was really, really small…

The brunette walked in and dropped the bag somewhere in the narrow space between the one-person bed and the wall with the tiny window, deciding she would not venture to open the wall-embedded wardrobe just yet. The bare mattress of the bed was soft enough and Elizaveta sat down, overwhelmed with fatigue and momentarily putting aside the fact that they would have to make some immediate purchases to make their new home properly usable. She and Feliks had not said a word to each other after the incident and for now she really wasn’t in the mood for it. He probably had no money left from his allowance, but the Hungarian had decided to let his boyfriend deal with him for the time being. She had some savings in the bank, but there was no point in trying to cover at least some of the debt, not after what had happened.

“Eliza? Are you okay?”

Her eyes remained firmly trained on the view outside, even if it was already dark, refusing to look at Toris who now stood awkwardly in the doorframe.

“I don’t know. I worked so hard in school and then for another four years with the firm , never broken any fucking law or done anyone any harm, yet here I am now buried in this shithole, investigated by the police and pursued by Russian mobsters! What do you want me to say?”

She scrubbed a hand over her face, shoulders sagging ever lower.

“Ever since he showed up in my life, I always did whatever I could to stick to Feliks, cover for him, fight for him, fix things for him… because I love him, he’s my little brother. But I can’t fix _everything_ , okay?”

“I’m so sorry… It’s my fault too, I don’t know why I thought-“

“Do you have a smoke?”

The Lithuanian dug quickly in his back pocket and handed her a full pack, together with a lighter, then left without another word. Elizaveta lit up hastily and kicked off her shoes, beginning to rummage through the bag trying to find the cell phone in the pile of things she’d stuffed in there at maximum speed. A task which could not be accomplished without throwing everything out first.

“Oh God… fuck this shit! Fuck everyone!” the brunette grumbled, cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. Eventually, she found the blasted thing and scrolled through the contacts, then pressed the call button.

“Hello, Arthur? Uh… yeah. I need to see you.”

* * *

 

“So they don’t know where that tosser’s off to?”

Elizaveta took a long drag from the cigarette, then settled it in balance on the edge of the ashtray. She shook her head.

“Look, this part’s not as big a problem as it seems,” the blond on the other side of the small table went on. “They’ll find him alright and you’ll be cleared.”

“How do you know they’ll find him?”

She kept throwing nervous glances around the foul little pub her old schoolmate had decided to bring her to, but Arthur Kirkland was perfectly relaxed, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m saying it’s very likely. They find more than half of the chaps doing this sort of thing. They do the shit convinced that they can totally pull it off, disappear and all that. But they can’t, because they’re just not as smart as they think. So, they find him and make him spill what he knows. Down go the people at TFTE, because they must have paid him to tamper with the figures, obviously. But no one can accuse you of anything, because you didn’t make shit out of it and you’re not even a partner in the firm.”

The Hungarian let out a gasp. “So the other partners are still going to face charges? You mean… Roderich-“

“Fuck Roderich, luv. It’s you that you should be focusing on,” Arthur said, taking a drag from his own cigarette, which happened to be a spliff. And it was only Tuesday, for fuck’s sake. “Besides, we had this talk before, you know, about _married_ men.”

Of course, Arthur happening to be a gentlemen’s man, must have known what he was talking about. And he was right, Roderich had a husband, as well as an influential family to handle things for him if it came to it. In contrast to that, Elizaveta’s family only served to cause _more_ problems and put the icing on the shitcake.

“The Russians are bad business though,” the Englishman stated. “They won’t be that easy to shake off.”

She nodded. “And we can’t even go to the police, because Feliks _did_ buy the drugs. And he pushed Natalya off the fucking window. We’d probably get arrested ourselves for that!”

Arthur chewed on his bottom lip, rubbing the tip of his index finger on the moisture on his bottle of beer. He seemed to be pondering on something, hopefully a potential solution. After all, she had asked for his help because he was working for the MI6, although anyone hearing that would have dismissed it as a joke. Arthur Kirkland had no apparent special talents other than an odd sense of humor she’d always appreciated, had at least three piercings and almost certainly didn’t own a single suit and tie. But he was working for some obscure MI6 department nevertheless.

“Liz, I never told you what it is that I do at my job.”

The brunette shrugged, picking up her smoke. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s called the Magic Crime department. Sort of short staffed for the moment, because it’s hard to find the right, open-minded sort of people for the job, but we’re hopeful. We call it the _Magic Club_. Look, there’s a lot about the so-called Underworld that is carefully kept from public knowledge, like the practical application of black magic. But the good news is that while there’s trouble, there are also possibilities.”

Elizaveta blinked. “…with black magic.”

“Yes.”

She dropped backwards on the backrest, closing her eyes. “Arthur, I’m telling you I’m about to be accused of fraud, some Russian thug is after me and Feliks and you fuck me with this Harry Potter shit! Goodness, _are you fucking serious_?!”

The blond propped one elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “I’m sorry, I still haven’t devised an effective way to explain this to people.”

“You mean to _muggles_ ,” the accountant said rolling her eyes. “Look, this really isn’t funny.”

“I know.”

“And what would you suggest? That I cast some _spell_ and everything will just… get solved?”

Arthur leaned over the table, reaching for her hand. “Look, I’m very serious, alright? And no, that’s not really the way it works. In fact, it’s quite different from the books. So now, what I’m suggesting is that we find you a sort of… bodyguard, someone with the ability to take care of all of your problems. A _magic_ bodyguard.”

**To be continued**

A/N – So yeah, there essentially couldn’t be any magic stuff without Arthur Kirkland and his Harry Potter stuff, right? Heh.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

A/N – Hello everyone! Time to bring some more black magic into your lives via this twisted little tale I happen to be quite thrilled about. So, enjoy the new chap ;))

_Warning_ : mention of drug consumption

* * *

 

I must be fucking crazy, Elizaveta thought, pressing the button for the basement in the ancient-looking elevator. Arthur’s obscure office was only two levels below the main hall of the museum, but one glance down the dark stairs leading to it had convinced her that probably the elevator was safer to use. She descended in a small hallway smelling of dust and mold, where she could see the bottom of the eerie staircase and a simple metal door where she rang three times. 

It opened fairly quickly and the Hungarian was suddenly faced with the most beautiful boy she’d ever laid eyes on. His pale blond hair was artistically held back with a hairclip on one side, while long bangs shadowed his midnight-blue eyes. He wore a white-and-blue striped dress jacket and a dark blue silk sash was tied over the belt of his black skinny jeans. Her gaze fell down her own simple outfit consisting of a grey wool dress, bare of any accessories, and she felt awfully plain in comparison.

“Hi, you must be Elizaveta,” the blond said in a smooth voice, stepping aside invitingly. “I’m Lukas, Arthur’s colleague. He’ll be down shortly, why don’t you come in and take a seat?”

The offices of the Magic Crime Department comprised several communicating rooms, all overstuffed with ancient, decrepit furniture, files, cardboard boxes and a random laptop here and there. Being in a basement, there were no windows, only pale light bulbs and everything looked rather depressing.

“Arthur told me you ran into an unfortunately complicated situation,” Lukas said, heading into a small kitchenette as soon as Elizaveta was settled into a plushy armchair. Only her mind was momentarily empty of all trouble, focusing on entirely different things. Was Lukas dating her friend by any chance? And if not, maybe-

“Here, drink this, you’re very tense.”

The brunette snapped to attention, blinking rapidly. Lukas was suddenly in front of her, holding a large paper cup.  Those gorgeous dark blue eyes were watching her intently, but in the same time his face was completely emotionless, eerily so.

“What’s this?” she asked, vaguely alerted by the unfamiliar scent of the cup contents as she took it, but her eyes were still locked with that absolutely bewitching gaze.

“A meth cocktail. It will make you feel better.”

“Wha-…”

“Don’t listen to anything he says, he looks like a fairy prince but he’s a troll like you’ve never seen!” said a male voice suddenly and Elizaveta looked away, noticing a tall, muscular young man leaning against a wall, observing them with an amused smirk. His golden blonde hair was wild and spiked and his sky blue eyes shone with mirth.

“At least I don’t smell like a troll,” Lukas replied impassibly, without gracing the newcomer with as much as a glance.

“Is Kirkland back yet?” someone else asked in a distinctively American accent and yet another blond showed up from one of the other rooms. He wore gold-rimmed spectacles and a childish pout on his blatantly handsome features.

“Howdy, Miss!” he greeted cheerfully upon noticing Elizaveta and the Hungarian mustered a small, shy smile in return. Fuck, everyone here was much too beautiful, and she hadn’t even sipped from the meth yet, she would need to get the hell back to the real world where most people were plain and boring. She took a gulp, ignoring the odd flavor.     

“Where’s that fucking red coat anyway? He went out to buy cigarettes and it’s taking fucking forever! Have you seen him, Miss?”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t see anyone with a red coat...” The accountant cleared her throat and shifted a bit in her seat. “So, Arthur was saying something about getting me a sort of… _magic_ bodyguard?”

“Yes, a Grim.”

“A _what_?”

Lukas pursed his mouth thoughtfully, apparently struggling to find a suitable explanation to that particular concept. “Well, it’s-“

“Someone like me,” the wild-haired blond declared smugly, his grin widening and Elizaveta saw that his bright white teeth were rather sharp. He snapped his fingers and his clothing began to change right before her eyes, the squared shirt and ripped jeans replaced by brownish leather topped with mail shirt. In his right hand was a long-handled battle axe with a huge blade and he used his left to lift Lukas up as if he weighted nothing. “I’m Lukas’s Grim. There’s no warrior who could stand against my axe!”

“Mathias, put me down now, you oaf!”

The Hungarian stared numbly at the blond in Viking attire, then into her cup. This was some trick, right? A good one, admittedly. She took another sip from the drink. At least Arthur and his friends knew how to entertain, if nothing else.

“It works like this,” Lukas began, eventually freeing himself from the Viking’s grip. “Everyone is in possession of an average amount of magic, but most people are utterly unaware of it. This amount of magic enables even an average person with enough knowledge of witchcraft to summon and contract a Grim protector. This of course has both advantages and disadvantages, and you’d best be aware of everything before you get yourself into this, because the contract once ‘signed’ is unbreakable.”

* * *

 

“Where have you been, stupid red coat?!”

“Give me a break, Alfred. Don’t you have some marshmallows to fry or something?” Arthur grumbled, shrugging off his coat which was clearly not red. “Oh, Liz, I’m sorry I’m late!” He walked up to where she sat and leaned in, giving her a small peck on the cheek. “I see you’ve already met everyone.”

“Yes, Lukas was explaining something about a contract…” The brunette gripped Arthur’s arm and pulled him down to whisper in his ear. “Mind telling me why all your colleagues are so damn hot?” she asked, nearly letting out an undignified giggle.

“Uh, because it’s their only redeemable feature, I’m afraid… So don’t think you’re missing anything, luv,” he replied in a low voice, before waving his hand and asking they be given some privacy. “Now…”

“That guy Mathias said he’s a Grim, and then he turned into a Viking. That was something else…“

The Englishman sighed. “Listen, this really isn’t a joke. Both Lukas and I had to summon Grims because our job is dangerous. But the Grims are dangerous too if not kept in check, because they are evil spirits, and once a contract is made, there’s no way back.”

“You mean… I would be like… selling my soul to the devil?”

“No, no, none of that!” Arthur assured her. “It’s got nothing to do with your soul, just your blood and the rest of your life, but that’s quite enough, I suppose. The Grim is bound to their contractor for life and in return for their services the contractor must allow them to drink their blood anytime they want. But don’t worry, it’s in a Grim’s best interest to keep their contractor alive and well, because if the contractor dies the contract is terminated and they go back to Hell.”

Very reassuring. So her friend was recommending her to make a contract with some bloodsucking ghost and the conclusion was that her problems could only be solved by someone from Hell. Just great. Just fan-fucking-tastic. She was still pondering whether this option was really better than Ivan Braginski finding them and breaking all their bones when the Englishman placed a worn, yellowed book in her lap.

“Here, we stole this book from an illegal black magic shop. It contains warriors from all ages, either really evil or just touched by the unholy, you can choose whoever you want.”

The brunette scowled, glancing down at the wrinkled covers. “Right… You chose from here?”

“Yes.” The blond rolled his eyes. “Though Alfred wasn’t the most inspired choice. He died sometime during the Revolutionary War and obviously hates the British and he’s bloody annoying as hell!“

“Why the hell would you summon someone from the Revolutionary War?”

“I was drunk, okay?”

Goodness! She turned a few pages – there were only descriptions which were rather hard to follow and the only thing which was clearly understandable (and particularly disturbing) was the number of kills for each Grim.

“I’ve no idea what to choose, there are no pictures…” Elizaveta mused out loud, secretly wondering whether these ‘evil spirits’ were all as hot as Mathias and Alfred. She took another sip of meth. “Are there any Austrians? Huh… what’s this shit with the Silesian Wars?”

The subject sounded remotely familiar, so the Hungarian pulled out her phone and googled it. She was really tired and the large body of text invading the tiny screen didn’t help, but she did spot something about Austria and the Habsburgs. Well, it’s either dead Habsburgs or the Russian mafia, she concluded dizzily.

“I want this one,” Elizaveta decided, tapping on the respective page. “Now what?”

The blond took the book and neatly ripped off the page, handing it over to her. “Now you must burn it. Come.”

* * *

   

Arthur led her into an empty room with stone-tiled floor and a large fire place in the back, probably just for decoration. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and used it to illuminate the space with a few candles placed in various niches in the black-painted walls. This gave the room a particularly sinister appearance, but Elizaveta was too _good-humored_ to notice.  He then proceeded to take a piece of white chalk out of his pocket and began to draw a large pentagram on the floor.

“Do you think Lukas would marry me?” she asked, cup still in hand.

“Oh, luv, I know you’re lonely,” the Englishman replied sighing. “But trust me, people in this line of business are not relationship material.”

He resumed the preparations, setting exactly four pieces of firewood inside the pentagram and muttering something, doing something else the brunette could not see, until a small flame sprung over the wood and danced over the chalk lines.

“And now I must leave you to it, but don’t worry, it’s really simple,” Arthur explained, standing and dusting his knees. “Wait until the flame grows a bit and when it’s nearly up to your height read the name on the page out loud and say ‘ I summon you!’. Then toss the paper into the flame and it’s done. Easy.”

Elizaveta watched in a daze as the orange flame began to grow, nuances of red and yellow expanding and melting against each other in a mesmerizing motion. What was with the page again? Ah, yes. She squinted at the faded black ink, clearing her throat and taking a deep breath.

“I summon you… Gilbert Beilschmidt!” she declared, only vaguely aware of how absurd the whole thing was, until her brain suddenly made the connection. “ _WHAT?!_ Beilschmidt?! Beilschmidt is my boss! What the fuck is this?! Is this a bad joke?!”

But it was too late, somehow the paper was pulled from her hand by a draft and flew straight into the open flame, being consumed almost instantly. Elizaveta downed what was left of the meth cocktail, deciding that if her boss was going to materialize in the room by magic she would fucking quit her job on the spot. After all, quitting her job couldn’t be so bad, she had a good enough resume to find another relatively quickly, and there would be no more Mr. Edelstein, no more heartbreak… yeah, she would probably forget about him if she stopped seeing him.

Then something happened. The flames changed their color from bright orange to a strange, bluish green and tiny sparkles flew in the air, as if carried by unseen currents. It was eerie beautiful and a bit scary in the same time.

“Fuck, this shit’s trippy as hell,” the Hungarian observed out loud, letting the empty cup drop on the floor.”I can almost understand why Feliks-…“

A young man had taken form from the flames, right in front of her, and he stepped forward, the fire dying brusquely in his wake.

Elizaveta stared, dumbstruck. Her eyes swept in wonder over his frame, tall yet lean, his short, silvery hair, pale complexion and garnet-colored eyes. He wore a sort of military uniform, with a white strap over a dark blue coat, white trousers and tall black boots. A long, sharp sword rested elegantly near his thigh. But there was something different about him, something both frightening and familiar which sent a chill down her spine.  

“Are you zhe contractor?” he asked, quite softly but with a thick German accent.

“W-What?”

His eyebrow rose slightly. “I asked, are you zhe contractor?” he repeated.

No, I’m just a drugged groupie, the brunette thought dizzily. Oh, fuck me, I SO can’t do this! There’s no way in fucking hell… what the hell was I thinking…?

“Uh… I-I’m sorry…” she mumbled, drawing back slowly, cautiously. “T-This is a mistake. It’s been a misunderstanding…”

Then she darted out the open door at top speed.

* * *

 

“Mmmmhh, it can’t be morning already…” Elizaveta groaned, shifting under the covers and reaching for the cell phone she’d left on the floor – since now there was no nightstand – to stop the alarm. It was already 7:30! Again she would not make it until 9:00 and even if the police had taken their laptops and files she still had to be there on time. Maybe they would come to take statements? Maybe lawyers would show up to tell them exactly where they stood? Fuck, she was going to be late and remembered Feliciano’s threat to block her access card. That little bitch was going to-

But suddenly all those pestering thoughts faded in the background as the brunette looked down at her left hand, namely the one holding the phone. There was a tattoo on the inside of her wrist – a black eagle with outspread wings. Nearly holding her breath, she withdrew her hand and poked at the tattoo with her index finger. It didn’t hurt, the skin wasn’t red around it, it certainly didn’t look _new_. Not that Elizaveta had any experience with tattoos or had ever even considered getting a tattoo in the first place.  

She quickly dialed her friend’s number, her stomach cringing worse and worse until the Englishman picked up.

“Arthur, there’s a tattoo on my wrist!” she nearly shouted at the freshly woken young man. “But I don’t know, it doesn’t look like a tattoo, and it’s a black bird and what the hell did I drink last night?! I don’t even fucking remember how I got here!”

“It’s not a tattoo… mmmhh… it’s the mark of your Grim,” Arthur mumbled obviously still partially sleeping. “The… contract…”

Oh. Fuck.

“Uh… Arthur, about that, I think I fucked that up. I seriously… but I panicked, okay? I don’t think I can do this!”

“What?”

She took a deep breath. “The Grim showed up and asked if I was the contractor, but I freaked out and ran away, just left him there… What’s going to happen now?”

“Pffffttt… there was nothing to fuck up per say, I suppose. Now you’re bound to each other… uh… so he’ll find you.”  

“And what if he’s pissed that I ran off like that? What will he do to me?!”

“I don’t know.”

Elizaveta hung up without another word.

Right, because it just wasn’t enough that I was pursued by the police AND the Russian mafia, now I’m also bound for life to a bloodsucking evil ghost who’s probably pissed at me big time, she concluded numbly, standing up and stepping into her favorite pink slippers. If this isn’t unprecedentedly fucked-up, I don’t know what is.

**_To be continued_ **


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

A/N – Hello my dear readers! I am so grateful for all of your amazing feedback, it means a lot to me! And I am having hella fun writing this, I must say, it’s coming out even better than I thought. But we all know – Gilbert’s awesomeness is inspiring and in this story he IS truly awesome, do not doubt it. Thus, enjoy the new chap ;)

 _Warning_ : implied violence

* * *

 

There had been quite the hectic day – police had indeed come and taken statements from everyone and she had stuttered more than once during her turn, but only because she had gotten horribly nervous all the sudden. No, she had been scared, and she still was, Elizaveta realised, spinning the golden liquor on the bottom of her glass. At least the… Grim or whatever that evil ghost was supposedly called hadn’t showed up, it would have been the last thing she needed. Still, the tattoo was there, sinisterly adorning the brunette’s delicate wrist, which meant that he _would_ show eventually… Maybe he only showed up at night?

“In which case he isn’t of much help as it is…” the Hungarian grumbled into the glass while downing the last of its contents. Because Ivan Braginski was somewhere out there too.

No, she would not think of all that shit now, Elizaveta decided, motioning to the bartender for a refill. No, tonight she would just sit there and get completely wasted, watching how Feliks and Toris were making fools out of themselves on the dance floor. For the occasion she had put on the shortest dress and the highest heels, just for the adventurous feeling they gave her, being something she wouldn’t normally wear. Well, she wouldn’t normally go out to a club during the week and get wasted either.

A few men had offered to buy her a drink, but she wasn’t in the mood for flirting, she only wanted to brood, so the brunette had politely but firmly sent them on their way.  But she would look up from her glass every now and then to glance around and that was when she saw _them_.

There were three bulky men, all sitting at the same table and clearly looking like they were there with a purpose beyond the beers in front of them. Maybe she was just getting paranoid and seeing Ivan Braginski’s minions everywhere, but the men were looking at her, of all the people in the damn club.

Elizaveta took a deep breath, telling herself to remain calm as she set the glass down slowly and fixed her skirt, standing. She left the coat on the chair, as if she were to return to it, and decided upon inconspicuously heading towards the exit. Yet the three men’s stares seemed to burn her back and her wobbly feet surely didn’t help as she tried to push her way through the crowded club.  

Fuck, this really was a bad idea, she thought, cursing the high heels which only counted as a gratuitous complication. But she pressed on, not daring to look back and see if they were pursuing, it would have looked like she was running away.  Fuck, Feliks and Toris! But she couldn’t even warn them, there was no way any of them would hear their cell phones in that deafening noise. Still, the Hungarian did pull out her phone from the miniscule purse and texted rapidly as she advanced. 

And then suddenly the world seemed to turn upside down and Elizaveta nearly dropped the phone as a pair of arms swept her off her feet and she was lifted over someone’s shoulder. She kicked and thrashed with all her strength, screaming, but to no avail, her captor carried her towards a back exit of the club and nobody seemed to notice.

* * *

 

Several moments of utter horror passed while the brunette’s heart pounded madly in her chest, before he reached the door and stepped out into a back alley.  The cold wind instantly made Elizaveta shiver, but helped clear her head a bit as she was lowered down to stand on her own feet. Blinking, she looked up at her captor – a young man wearing a dark green hoodie over a striped shirt and dark faded jeans – and realized it was… the Grim. In modern clothing he looked somewhat less fantastic, but his sheet-white skin and garnet-colored eyes were still giving him a sort of unearthly appearance.

Oh, shit. So he _really_ existed. SHIT!

“Uh, Mr. Beilschmidt, I… “ the brunette stuttered, panting and instinctively retreating until her back met a hard wall.

“Just Gilbert.”

“I-I’m really sorry about last night… I-I wasn’t feeling well, and I panicked and I-…”

But the frown she expected to see on his face never came, instead the albino tilted his head a bit and grinned. “Zhere’s no problem, zhe awesome me has seen vorse reactions zhan zhat,” he said.

Uh… had he just referred to himself as ‘the awesome me’? Elizaveta blinked, momentarily uncomprehending just what the hell-… eh, whatever. “Right, so, Mr. Beilschmidt, I saw someone following me just now…” She nodded quickly to emphasize the idea, folding her arms because fuck, it was really chill outside.

“Just Gilbert. I know, ja. Ve’ll take care of it, don’t vorry.”

The Hungarian scowled, plagued by a sudden suspicion. “So, ‘just Gilbert’, you’re not really… like… one of Arthur’s friends, or coworkers, or something, and he sent you to take care of me, right? Because I’m in some really deep shit and unless you seriously are some evil ghost from hell I don’t see how-“

“Oi, mate, we’ve got some business with the lady here, so sod off, yeah?” a voice said and suddenly the three men she’d spotted earlier showed up, effectively blocking any escape paths they could have taken. 

The Grim’s smile vanished and he turned abruptly to face the intruders. “Or else vhat?” he inquired dryly.

“I said bugger off!” the man repeated, and the muzzle of a gun was pointed in Gilbert’s direction. “Are you going to make me say it again?!”

“I vill say only zhis: if you start a var, you must fight it. But if you fight me, I vill kill you,” the albino said calmly.

In the next moment the gun went off and Elizaveta screamed, crouching down next to the wall and breaking into loud, terrified sobs. But to her shock the Grim was still standing and when the smoke cleared she saw that his right hand was balled into a fist. When he opened it, the bullet was there, resting on his palm demonstratively before it was dropped on the concrete.

“So, Miss Elizaveta, vere you explained about zhe details of zhe contract?” Gilbert wanted to know, turning to face her trembling form.

“W-What?!”

She couldn’t think of an answer right then and when the men lunged at him from all sides she buried her face in her hands, not wanting to see it. There were a couple of shouts, another gunshot, some muffled screams and then, eventually, the sinister thud of bodies hitting the ground.

Taking a deep breath, Elizaveta forced herself to open her eyes. All three attackers were lying on the ground unconscious or maybe even dead, she couldn’t tell and really didn’t want to know. But it would have been me, the accountant thought, in utter horror. Who knows what they would have done to me? She gulped, trying to push the disturbing images away from her mind.

“So, does zhis answer your question? Ja, I am vhat you said.”

She couldn’t say whether this was necessarily reassuring or not. What now? He’d asked about the contract, right.

“I-I was told, yes,” the brunette replied eventually, clearing her throat but not giving up her crouched position near the wall. “So I believe that now-“ Oh, FUCK! Now he will ask for _payment_. Suddenly she was horribly afraid and began trembling much worse than before.

The Grim noticed and at least figured that she must have been very cold, because he took off his hoodie and offered it to her, together with his hand to help her up to her feet.

“T-Thank you,” Elizaveta mumbled, nodding. “Um… I need to go to the bathroom…”

* * *

 

“Shit, what the hell do I do now?” the Hungarian muttered once she was safe in the confines of the small toilet stall. She wrapped Gilbert’s hoodie closer around her body, rather enjoying the feel of the warm, soft fabric bearing a vague scent of cologne. Rapidly she pulled out her phone from the purse (the coat was lost, but at least she still had the purse) and texted Arthur, inquiring about the whole _payment_ thing.

_‘It was rather unpleasant at first, I daresay, but the painful part was brief and a senseless, fantastic shag against the bathroom sink followed. Got used to it quickly’_

“Idiot, don’t tell me this shit!” she grumbled furiously, stuffing the phone back. What the hell did the contract entail exactly? She hadn’t even seen any _contract_ per say! What a fantastic CRAP this was!

The brunette made her way out of the restrooms and found the Grim waiting outside, ever-patient. She figured she would have to ask him directly, but first…

“Uh, Gilbert… I was thinking,” Elizaveta began, hoping that what she was about to suggest sounded reasonable enough. “That perhaps we should, uh… talk and get to know each other a bit better, uh, before…”

“Before vhat?”

She paused, unsure how to phrase it. “Well, actually I was told by another contractor – who explained to me the details of the contract, to be precise – that the… um… payment part may also consist of a… of a more… intimate sort of interaction.” Namely against the bathroom sink, but that was better left out.

“I see.” Gilbert sighed. “But nein, the payment simply consists of you letting me bite you. Zhere is nozhing else and if your friend got more zhan zhat it vas because he vanted it, make no mistake.”

Oh. Well, then, come to think of it, Alfred was obviously very attractive. _But_ he was also an evil ghost. And Arthur was obviously a little hypocrite. 

They left the club and walked quietly for a while, heading back to the apartment. Elizaveta had already texted her brother about it, but Feliks had replied that they’d be out a while longer. At least he was alive and well, those men neatly disposed of, which reminded her she still had the Grim to handle until she could actually call it a night.

“So… you’re a Habsburg? Like… Austrian?” the Hungarian asked, after some effort of remembering some of the stuff she’d read on that page before burning it. Goodness, how _did_ one make conversation with an evil ghost? 

Gilbert grimaced visibly at the suggestion. “Mein Gott, nein! I am Prussian, like from Königreich Preußen,” he clarified. “Zhe Habsburgs vere our enemies… but zhat vas a very long time ago.”

Huh, I guess it would have been sort of lame to ‘order’ an Austrian after all, Elizaveta told herself. Anyway, the Grim looked nothing like Roderich, but he was alright. He was rather cute. No, he wasn’t cute, he was actually quite stunning, but then again there was a reason for that and she had better not forget it. Her stomach sank at the thought that they were now, as Arthur had put it, ‘bound’. How would the rest of her life look like, being bound to this man who wasn’t exactly a real person? Would she even have a life? Darn, she really hadn’t thought this through, but then again probably without him _there wouldn’t have been_ a life to think about in the first place.

“So… uh… this is it, I guess.”

Damn, the apartment looked bad even if you were bringing an evil ghost back home with you, the Hungarian observed. She hoped that Gilbert Beilschmidt – she still had a hard time accepting that he had the same name as his boss – had no qualms about where his contractors lived.

She led him into her miniscule bedroom, just in case her brother and his boyfriend did decide to come back earlier and closed the door in their wake. Cue awkward moment when the Prussian turned to face her and they bumped into each other in the narrow space between the bed and the window wall.

“Okay, so now-… uh…” Elizaveta looked up at the Grim, almost shaking with nervousness. She gripped his sleeves in anticipation, but Gilbert only leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“It’s alright, I vill do it in your sleep. You von’t feel a zhing, it von’t hurt.”

“Wha-…”

“Shhh, you must sleep now.”

**_To be continued_ **


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

A/N – Hello everyone! I’ve been meaning to update this sooner, because like I said before I’m really enjoying writing this plot and it’s great to finally ‘let it out’ and put it into words ;) But enough of this, now it is time for more pure awesomeness in the form of our favorite Prussian ;) Enjoy!

 _Warning_ : boring references of commercial law and taxes and some crack involving someone’s designer pants.

* * *

 

Feliks and Toris were fast asleep on the poor excuse of a couch, more or less unclothed, but Elizaveta ignored them as she stumbled dizzily into the kitchen. She was vaguely aware that it was particularly late and should have hurried, but waking up had been harder than usual.

She was starving, but the miniscule fridge happened to be completely empty, since no one had bothered to shop. Fuck. No point in wasting time with nonexistent breakfast then, the Hungarian decided, heading for the bathroom next. Her hair was a mess, but she was more preoccupied to inspect her neck. Nothing there though. Well, at least _that_ was a relief…

In the next half an hour Elizaveta managed to make herself look somewhat presentable and take a hella expensive cab, but still it was 9:30 when she finally made it to the office. It was going to be another dreaded day, namely when the representatives of Turkish-French Tobacco Exports would come over with their lawyer to discuss the situation. As she slipped carefully through the glass doors the brunette was thankful that at least Feliciano was nowhere to be seen, but just as she was about to reach her own office she nearly bumped into the audit partner, Mr. Edelstein.

The Hungarian stopped dead in her tracks, unable to stop staring at Roderich, taking in every detail of his appearance. Of course, he was tired and worn, there were darker shadows under those lovely, deep blue eyes and his raven hair looked like he’d run those long, perfect fingers through it repeatedly and mindlessly, but he was still enthralling, maybe now more than ever. 

“Oh… hello Mr. Edelstein,” she murmured shyly.

The Austrian walked up to her with a faint smile on his face and proceeded to adjust his glasses a bit awkwardly.

“Miss Hedervary, I meant to apologize for the other day. I was just… I got overemotional I suppose. It’s such a difficult situation and I… I’m really sorry about… about everything.”

Elizaveta felt her poor heart literally melting and she wanted to hug him. Just hold him tightly and never let him go. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Edelstein, please don’t mention it. It’s a difficult situation for all of us.” She gulped, taking a deep breath, and walked past him with a small nod.

“Um… Elizaveta. I was thinking-….”

The brunette turned, at first believing she’d heard him wrong. “Yes?”

“Ludwig’s told me how dependable and meticulous you are and I was thinking… Maybe if we somehow ‘survive’ this, that we could work together on an audit engagement?”

Oh. Of course.

‘Get real, you twat, what did you think he was going to say?’ she mentally scolded herself, just as she nodded again, mustering a wry smile. Then Roderich walked away and the accountant slipped quietly into her office, trying to push the depressing thoughts of forbidden love away from her mind.

Only to discover Gilbert Beilschmidt sitting at her desk, elbows resting on the hard surface and chin held in his hand as he observed her curiously. Elizaveta nearly jumped out of her skin and her first instinct was to flee, but it turned out that the door she’d merely pulled close in her wake was now locked and wouldn’t budge.

Okay. Okay…

“Gilbert,” she said sternly, still trying to calm her panting. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“I am here to solve zhis ozher problem of yours,” the Prussian replied indifferently.

She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “What are you saying, I need a fucking _lawyer_ to solve this other problem, not a soldier! You can’t solve just fucking everything _that way_!”

Gilbert stood up and straightened his back and the brunette couldn’t help noticing the way the black Armani suit complimented his frame just right. “I am a Grim, vhich means zhat I can be vhatever I need to be to fulfil zhe contract,” he explained calmly, producing a pair of black-rimmed glasses out of his pocket and putting them on.

“So you can be a tax lawyer.” Elizaveta crossed her arms defensively.

“Ja. Actually I can be an awesome tax lawyer.” The albino grinned smugly, walking up to where she stood, towering over her almost petite figure. But then his grin faded and he motioned with his head towards the door. “But still, I cannot solve _all_ of your problems.”

She knew what he meant. _Roderich_. “There’s no need…” came the grumbled reply and she averted her gaze in embarrassment. I don’t need this problem solved, I just need my heart torn from my chest so that I won’t feel this stupid pain anymore, I won’t feel unloved, I won’t feel anything, she thought, suddenly getting the urge to bury her face in her hands and giving in to it.

“Alright, you can say it.”

“Say vhat?”

“That I’m the lamest contractor you’ve ever had. I mean, of course Roderich would never look at someone like me! He is smart, rich, has a successful husband and an influential, blue-blooded family, while I toiled all my life only to end up in a fucking closet, I only have my stupid brother Feliks and my horrid aunt Marta here in London with me and I’m so pathetic that I actually needed to summon someone from Hell to sort my shit!”

Gilbert frowned slightly and blinked. “I vould say zhat from all of my past contractors you have zhe least self esteem, Miss Elizaveta,” he said. “But… you are _far_ from being zhe lamest. And I vould also say zhat-…”

“What?”

He looked down at the polished tips of his shoes and sighed, hesitating. “Vell, I vould say zhat from all contractors you’re zhe only one vho hasn’t treated me like garbage or like a miserable foot soldier at most.”

 Before Elizaveta could reply (and indeed the confession shocked her), the Grim opened the door and emerged in the hallway, leaving the brunette with no other option but to run after him as he headed for one of the conference rooms.

“But… why would they treat you like that? And besides, didn’t they fear you or something?”

“Vhy vould zhey fear me? Everyone gets scared at first, but a Grim cannot hurt zheir contractor, zhat’s a no-brainer!”

Now he looked positively upset, avoiding her gaze and the Hungarian cursed herself in earnest. And this is how you ruin all your attempts at a relationship in general and this is why you’ll never have a boyfriend – you always go and say something absolutely fucking stupid, she mentally chided herself.

“Oh, Gilbert, I’m so sorry!” Her hand gripped his arm before she could stop herself. “I didn’t mean to-… please forgive me!”

“What’s going on here? Are you ready for the meeting? They’ll be up in no time!”

Elizaveta blinked, noticing the accounting partner, Ludwig standing before them with an impatient expression. She feared that he would ask who Gilbert was, but he didn’t. Obviously.

“Ja, ve have everyzhing,” the Prussian assured him calmly and only then did she notice that a stack of papers had mysteriously appeared in his hand, because sure as Hell he didn’t have them earlier.

* * *

 

Elizaveta had never met Mr. Francis Bonnefoy before, but she instantly disliked the man upon laying eyes on him. He and a certain Mr. Sadiq Adnan were the two representatives of Turkish-French Tobacco Exports, but it was quite obvious that the Frenchman held the most sway. They’d come to the meeting with a new lawyer – a young Spaniard with a bright and rather arrogant smile on his face – who had introduced himself as Antonio Fernandez Carriedo squeezing her hand a bit too hard, all the while looking like he was going to try and grope her next.

The Frenchman’s sharp blue eyes took in the gathering of _men_ around the council table – rudely and blatantly leaving her out of it and Elizaveta’s eyes found Roderich, pale and shoulders sagging, as if he were trying to shrink in his chair. She instantly lowered her gaze to the blank sheets in front of her, not bearing to see him like this anymore. It was heartwrenching how vulnerable and helpless he was, even if Arthur would have probably told her that he was a man and a man was bloody expected to deal with his shit on his own.   

“Well, _monsieurs,_ I suppose we’re here today to discuss the covering of damages resulting from our shared contractual liability, _non_? Because it looks like you have made a very expensive _mistake_ we’ll all have to pay for,“ began Francis Bonnefoy, his tone dripping with undissimulated disgust. He surely had a lot of nerve.

Ludwig’s jaw tightened visibly at the remark, but he said nothing, waiting for them to finish saying what they had to say. 

“Eight million pounds plus penalties for delay in payment,” Mr. Adnan clarified neutrally, crossing his arms.

The German partner nodded. “Indeed, although I cannot help but think that this has been going on for the last two years and these ‘missing’ amounts have constantly been in your favor, because you paid less taxes,” he observed. “And there’s also a strong suspicion on our part that the absent Mr. Karpussi may have been persuaded to-“

“ _Non, non, monsieur_ Beilschmidt, I believe you can’t make such a claim!” Bonnefoy cut him off aggressively. “We may have a joint responsibility, but in the end your firm prepared the tax returns and it is _your_ fault! Don’t think you can try to shift the blame just because Mr. Karpussi mysteriously disappeared somewhere!” 

Ludwig blinked in surprise and looked purposefully at his secretary, Feliciano, who was preparing coffees in one corner of the meeting room. There was a question in his eyes, but the petite Italian shook his head no, so the brunette realized that no one had actually informed their client about Heracles Karpussi’s disappearance. So how did the Turkish-French Tobacco Exports representatives know he was gone? Unless they knew in the first place that he was planning to disappear once he got paid for the scheme. It probably had been something rather short-term in order for Bonnefoy or some other director to meet the profit budget and get their bonuses.

“If I may say something, Mr. Bonnefoy?” the Grim intervened.

“Yes?” the Frenchman asked stiffly, shifting his attention to Gilbert, who smoothly folded his hands on top of his papers.

“Actually it’s about zhe joint liability clause contained in zhe contract which my clients have concluded vith your company. I believe it has certain limitations…”

“Really?”

“Ja. For example, it does state zhat my clients’ firm is responsible for preparing your tax returns, however zhe tax returns are prepared based on some information vhich comes directly from your accounting and operational departments, and for vhich  my clients’ firm is _not_ responsible. Furzhermore, if I recall correctly, in zhe period in vhich your bookkeeping vas outsourced to Beilschmidt, Edelstein &Karpussi no such mistakes have occurred vith your tax returns, ja? You even had an inspection from HMRC in zhat period and everyzhing vas fine.”

“Yes, it was but-“ Mr. Adnan tried to say, but his colleague interrupted him.

“Are you saying that _we_ may have done something to tamper with the basic data?!” Bonnefoy hissed. “What proof do you have of that, _monsieur_ … ah, Beilschmidt? Do you really think you can throw accusations like that?!”

 Gilbert sighed softly, giving the brunette Hungarian a quick glance and the shadow of a smile.

“Vell, zhe… _mistakes_ ve speak of have occurred in connection vith zhe custom taxes. As you vell know, zhe percentages and levels of taxes vary depending on vhezher it is a raw tobacco import or a cigarettes import and also on zhe quality of imported tobacco, if case be. Your company has various types of cross border transactions, involving various types of such goods. Now, zhe returns are one zhing, but zhe actual import documents containing all zhis information vas prepared by you, nein?” 

He sighed again, softly and innocently.

“Also, I believe zhat upon verification zhe HRMC inspectors vill certify zhat zhe returns have been prepared correctly based on zhe provided data.”

At this point the Spanish lawyer leaned in and whispered something in the blond’s ear with an air of concern. Elizaveta fought to repress a mad giggle upon noticing Bonnefoy’s eyes bulging.  There was a long, awkward silence dotted with angry whispers while they took their time going through the papers and the Hungarian wondered if Gilbert had used his magic to alter the clauses of the service contract. Still, what he had explained made perfect sense, even though Karpussi must have known he was given false data, and had probably even done some tampering of his own to make sure that things would come out as TFTE wanted.

She looked at Roderich and saw the poor man confused, not daring to hope just yet even if his own experience should have told him that the adversary had been cornered, while next to him Ludwig was expectant but stern.

“This does not end here, of course,” said Mr. Bonnefoy eventually, his tone much more tame this time. “We will have to wait for the HMRC expertise to be over and then the proper conclusions will be drawn… And I suppose it’s a pity that you don’t work for me instead, _monsieur_ Beilschmidt,” he added out of the blue and Elizaveta noticed his gaze going over the Grim slowly, carefully, taking in each and every part of him with subtle interest. The observation instantly irritated her beyond belief (Gilbert was _hers_ , damn it!!) to the extent she wished she could punch him in the face. Hard.

At last the guests stood to leave and on their way out Bonnefoy decided to deliver them one last sting.

“If there is one thing I detest that is foul play,” he stated arrogantly, giving the two partners and their ‘lawyer’ a disdainful once-over. “Oh and… bad taste in clothing, _bien sur_. If you weren’t aware, black is awfully out of fashion and no one died yet, _non_?”

Only just as he was finishing his phrase the Frenchman accidentally dropped his silk handkerchief on the floor and when he stooped to pick it up his trousers ripped clean in the back, revealing a pattern of small pink elephants on his underwear.

“Ah, _mon Dieu_!” he exclaimed.

Roderich gasped, eyes widening in shock and Ludwig discreetly rolled his eyes, but his secretary snickered openly.

“Veee, I don’t think we’ll be going to court soon, he’ll be too busy suing his tailor.”

Elizaveta turned towards the indifferent looking albino the moment the Frenchman had stormed out of the premises, pulling him into her office and slamming the door shut.

“Gilbert. You didn’t!” She tried to sound stern and serious, but a fit of laughter was threatening to burst.

“Did vhat?” he asked innocently.

“You know what!”

At last the Hungarian collapsed in her chair, covering her mouth with both hands and shaken by incontrollable giggles.

“Keseseseseses, serves him right for insulting mein awesome suit!”

**_To be continued_ **


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! Sorry for taking so long with this update, I got drawn into other stuff and there, delay! But do not worry, I do not plan to give up this awesome plot and here, now, just for you, MORE AWESOMENESS!!!

* * *

 

“You know, aunt Marty expects us to be at her Halloween party tonight,” Feliks said in lieu of any greeting and Elizaveta scowled, all her previous relief and joy at having momentarily escaped at least the criminal charges for tax evasion going down the drain. She pulled out her phone and saw five missed calls from her ‘favorite’ aunt.

“Gah!” the brunette groaned, punching in the number regardless. “Hi, aunt Marty, you ca-“

“Erzsebet! You’re coming, right?” shrieked the all too familiar voice at the other end of the line. “Oh, your uncle is such an idiot! I told him to get a minion costume this year, because they’re fun and trendy and I thought the children would love it too, but he got Sponge Bob Square Pants instead! He looks awful, awful!! So don’t be late, alright dear?”

With that the aunt hung up, before the Hungarian had gotten the chance to utter a single word in reply. Fuck this Halloween party, she had nothing to wear (since they’d left most of their stuff behind when leaving Braginski’s block)! However, her brother seemed to have read her mind before time, because the blond wordlessly pointed towards a mobile wardrobe of sorts he and Toris had brought back from his studio. Half-heartedly, Elizaveta opened it and reluctantly eyed the colorful mess contained inside, while punching in another number.

“Hello, Arthur? Called to ask if you’re coming at aunt Marta’s stupid Halloween _soiree_ tonight…” she asked, picking up something purple which had appeared to be a dress but turned out to be missing some essential parts.      

“Yeah, luv, Granny’s been talking about it for a month now. So if she’s going, we’re going.”

“Wait… you’re taking Alfred as your date?”

The Englishman chuckled. “Luv, I got a Royal Fusiliers uniform and it would be _wasted_ on anyone else. But nah, he’s not my date per say, Granny still expects to see me with some cute girl and Alfred doesn’t look like a girl, heh. Lukas does, though.”

Elizaveta turned towards the blond Pole with a look of exasperation, mouthing ‘is there anything wearable in this pile of trash?’. “Ugh, fuck this date thing. I’m dateless and it’ll be my head on the pumpkin patch, aunt Marty won’t forgive me for embarrassing her yet again…” she told her friend.

“What do you mean you’re dateless? Won’t you bring the creepy Prussian with you?”

“Gilbert isn’t creepy, he’s sort of okay, actually. But my family isn’t, so I’d rather spare him of the encounter…” And besides, wasn’t it rather embarrassing to be asking him to pretend he was her date? Aside from risking to slide down the… unethical slope her friend had gone to, she would have hated to make the Grim think she was even lamer than the first impression.

 “Alright, luv, see you there, then. Find something hot to wear, yeah? And as long as there’s drinks, there’s fun.”

There would be alcohol…. she hoped.

* * *

 

Right… I’m dateless and wearing something which doesn’t qualify as a costume, unless it’s supposed to be half-rotten, that is to say I’m quite fucked, Elizaveta thought, wrapping the peacoat closer around her body as she and the two boys got off the cab. Her aunt Marta had married a rich man and lived in a posh house with a luxurious garden - the kind Roderich probably lived in - but the brunette found herself wondering whether his family was as half as unpleasant.

“Oh, thank God you’re here early, your stupid uncle got stuck in that piece of trash he mistook for a costume and the guests have already started to arrive!” Marta babbled, hurriedly ushering Feliks and Toris inside and shoving them in the general direction of the stairs.

Elizaveta tried to use the moment of rush and get out of the older Hungarian’s sight, but unfortunately the maneuver failed.

“And Erzsebet…” Marta’s keen eyes swept critically over her niece’s outfit - the _dress_ was made out of a multitude of differently colored and textured fabrics pieced together with no apparent logic – but she said nothing about it, only pressed her lips ominously. “I see you’re alone again?”

The words were spoken with such coldness they could have frozen Hell and Elizaveta panicked.

“Uh… no. No, actually I do have a date this time, it’s just… he’ll be here a little later. Stuff to finish at work…” she mumbled, inwardly cursing herself for this blasted weakness.

“Really?” Marta’s carefully plucked eyebrow shot up in suspicion. “Oh, why don’t you tell me about him, then?”

“Um… he’s… uh… he’s German and… uh… a tax lawyer. His name is Gilbert Beilschmidt.”

 _Fuck. Me. A. Million. Times…_ She couldn’t believe it, she couldn’t _fucking_ believe she’d said just that, of all things!

Marta nodded slowly, with an expression which clearly spelled disbelief. “Well, dear, then I guess I’ll meet him later, yes? Why don’t you go outside in the garden to help with the drinks in the meantime?”

Shit. She may have escaped for now, but it was only a delay for the inevitable, unless she could find a way to avoid her aunt for the rest of the evening. Having concluded as such, Elizaveta wandered out into the lavish back garden which had been decorated with glowing pumpkin lamps and other Halloween decorations, all chosen with surprisingly good taste.

Some of the guests had indeed arrived, but the brunette could hardly recognize a few faces, and those among the people who hadn’t chosen to wear masks. And thus a most unfortunate surprise presented itself in the person of none other than _monsieur_ Francis Bonnefoy – probably an acquaintance of her uncle. He was presently talking to someone and hadn’t noticed her in turn, so the brunette discreetly backed off to the drinks table, where she helped herself with a generous fill of genuine Hungarian palinka. But seriously, it was probably going to be a long night.

For a long while Elizaveta remained more or less glued to the buffet, gaze following her flamboyant aunt as she moved through the increasing crowd, greeting various groups and making conversation. But Marta’s ever vigilant eyes kept returning to where the brunette stood and thanks to the hella conspicuous outfit she very much feared that her plan to vanish mysteriously at some point during the party was rather impractical.

“Oh, hello, luv. Looking lovely!”

The Hungarian turned brusquely and was relieved to see Arthur – perhaps her resourceful friend could provide an escape solution? – in the company of a gorgeous blonde girl, her perfect silhouette complimented by a pink babydoll dress and skinny black jeans. Only at a closer look she realized it wasn’t a girl, but Lukas Bondevik. Oh fuck me, he looks even better as a girl, Elizaveta thought, unable to help staring.

“I really need a drink,” the Englishman went on shaking his head, ”Granny keeps flirting with Alfred and I was beginning to feel awkward…”

“Oh, God… Listen Artie, I need your help, okay? I accidentally crapped out and told my aunt that I have a date for tonight – which I don’t – and that he’ll be here later and now she’s watching me like a hawk! So I really need to get out of here without her noticing-“

But it was too late.

“Erzsebet!” said a voice behind her, in the next moment. “Is your date here, dear?”   

Shit. “Uh… yeah, he’s… he’s here somewhere. I’ll go get him…” the brunette mumbled awkwardly, discreetly elbowing the blond. Fortunately Arthur took the hint and grabbed Marta’s arm gallantly, engaging in some distracting small talk and offering her a chance to escape momentarily.

Elizaveta wandered off among the guests with the certainty that she’d run out of options for the evening and was presently screwed. She would have to summon the Grim, well, if only she had known how the summoning thing worked in the first place – until now he’d always appeared out of the blue and by his own volition, whenever he had deemed necessary.

“Ah damn! How do I get to call you, Gilbert? Gah, Gil-“ she grumbled pacing around, but on the second turn bumped straight into the Grim’s chest. The Hungarian blinked in surprise, then instantly panicked at the thought that someone might have witnessed him popping up out of thin air like that.

“Vhat’s zhe matter, Miss Elizaveta?”

The brunette looked up at him still stunned – he was wearing his uniform again and the dark blue of the coat contrasted beautifully with his pale skin and hair. It made quite a fitting ‘costume’ too. Goodness, this man may have been an evil spirit from Hell, but he was powerful and gorgeous and she was a complete disaster in comparison. ‘But I’m his contractor, he’s here to serve me, we’re bound and it’s not like he could run away screaming… like a real boyfriend would probably do’.

“Well, the problem is that I… sort of gave in to peer pressure,” she confessed.

“Ja?” The Prussian’s eyebrow arched as he looked at her slightly confused. Or maybe he was just feigning it.

Elizaveta nodded, tsking softly. “Um… I don’t know how to craftily put this, so I’ll just say it, I guess… I, uh, told my aunt that you are my date for tonight, even if I didn’t want to do that.” She looked up at him, but could read no reaction. “The thing is that I didn’t want you to see how horrible my family is.”

The albino’s expression softened unexpectedly, his arm went gently around her waist and he leaned in until their foreheads almost touched. “Miss Elizaveta, you don’t have to vorry, or try to spare me of anyzhing. A lot of people have horrible families.”

They walked up to where Arthur was still retaining her aunt, Elizaveta trying her best to act as naturally as possible around her ‘date’. But it was sort of awkward, because she hadn’t really dated that much and because of the fear of Marta somehow catching wind of her fraud.

“So, Gilbert, glad to finally catch a glimpse of you in person,” the older Hungarian said with a smile which was just a bit too broad as she gave the Grim a slow, almost shameless once-over. “Erzsebet told me a lot about you!”

The albino smiled in turn and replied something Elizaveta wasn’t quite able to catch, but to her complete shock and mortification her aunt leaned in to whisper something in his ear and in the same time gave a hearty slap to his backside. Hell, good thing he wasn’t a _real_ person!

“Told you…” she grumbled morosely when thankfully Marta was drawn away by a very drunk monsieur Bonnefoy having attached himself to Arthur’s arm and refusing to let go.

“Keseseseses, I zhink zhat your aunt really likes me,” Gilbert observed. He only let out a small chuckle, but the corners of his mouth kept twitching, a clear indication that he was far more amused and holding back laughter.

The brunette scowled, yeah she liked him alright… “What did she say to you?”

“Nozhing… Just zhat she is happy for you.”

“Yeah? Is that how she phrased it?”

“Eh… nein, zhat’s not how she phrased it exactly, but zhat vas zhe idea.”

* * *

 

They’d hung around for a while afterwards and Elizaveta had had some more drinks, but her nervousness had not lessened in the least. Unlike the Grim, who could slip easily into any role and pretend he was whoever the job required him to be, she wasn’t comfortable with this pretense at all – especially in this dating setup - and unlike back at the office, now it had also dawned on her that maybe her aunt could also mention her ‘boyfriend’ to Feliks.

Since her brother was unaware of what was going on, he was probably going to raise some serious suspicions about her story… Shit! She would have to give a lot of explanations very soon. Maybe it would just have been easier to tell Feliks as well that Gilbert was her boyfriend and ask the Grim to live with her on a permanent basis instead of showing up randomly like that? Right… because that wouldn’t be super-awkward at all.

But then, maybe she just had to get more used to him, the Hungarian thought – surely not as ‘used’ as Arthur had gotten with Alfred – and the rather numerous drinks she’d had during the evening made her come upon a more or less inspired decision.

“Gilbert…” the brunette said softly, closing the door carefully in her wake. Damn this shitty little room, it made everything so fucking difficult. “I want… um…” Elizaveta paused, looking at the Grim slightly uncertain. “I want you to show me what it’s like.”

In reply the Prussian gave her an odd glance, tilting his head. “Vhat _vhat_ is like exactly?”

“The… uh… the biting thing.” 

Gilbert blinked, briefly chewing on his bottom lip, sharp teeth showing just a bit as he did. “Miss Elizaveta, zhe ‘biting zhing’ hurts… Vhy vould you vant to try somezhing like zhat?”

“I don’t know, I just…”

The Hungarian shrugged, but it was a lie. She did know why – not because she wanted to feel his lips on her neck (oh, not at all!) but because she wanted to be reminded – however brutally – of _what_ Gilbert Beilschmidt was, before his overwhelming confidence and good looks got to sway her from sane judgment. She took a deep breath, hoping she hadn’t made things way too weird.

“Gilbert, were you married?”

And now she just did.

“Nein.” The Prussian snorted lightly, taking two steps closer. “Zhe awesome me vas a free man to zhe very end.” His garnet-colored eyes trailed slowly from her own down to her lips and back again.

Elizaveta gulped and averted her gaze, feeling horribly nervous despite the haze of the liquor, just like the first night she’d brought him back to her room (which hadn’t been that long before, anyway…) “I-I only asked b-because… I mean it’s none of my business, just… uh… don’t want to make things uncomfortable for you.”

“Miss Elizaveta, you need to stop vorrying about me, I’ve been doing zhis job for a very long time. “

He was standing very close now and his soft voice was sending shudders down the brunette’s spine. She inhaled, forcing to breathe normally and fleetingly wondering whether shagging against the sink wouldn’t have been more straightforward than this weird tension. Yet the Grim had not said anything even remotely inappropriate, it was merely his… _vibe_ which was teasing, making her say more and more stupid things and stutter like a silly little girl.

“I’m not afraid,” she said eventually, making an effort to look the Prussian in the eye as she spoke.

“Of vhat?”

Elizaveta did not answer, only pressed closer, one hand clenching the front of his uniform coat while the other combed her hair away from her neck with shaky fingers as she tilted her head, eyes closing. The brunette’s breath hitched as she felt the Grim’s nose and lips ghosting over the exposed skin of her throat, but then the pad of his thumb brushed against her forehead, tracing a peculiar mark of sorts.

“Nein,” Gilbert murmured, and darkness engulfed everything.

**_To be continued_ **


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

A/N – Hello everyone! I must confess that I took a small break from writing and damn it shows! Also, somehow I got loaded with a bunch of stuff again, several WIPs in the same time after I’d sworn it wouldn’t happen again, incredible! But that’s me, maybe it’s because I’m a Gemini? Who knows… Anyway, enough of that, enjoy the new chap everybunny ;)

_Warning_ _: mentions of gore and character death_

* * *

 

It was getting dark and there was a bit of fog too, yet by some eerie effect the edges of the leaves still shone in golden and reddish-bronze hues, making one think they were wandering through a magic forest of sorts. It was cold too, because soft clouds of steam came out with each breath and when the hood of her cloak got caught in a low twig and slipped back Elizaveta felt the biting wind on her cheeks. She pulled the thick fabric around her body, distracted by the swish of the long dress as it brushed over the vegetal carpet littering the ground. A vague smell of smoke lingered in the air, brought by the breeze, signaling the approach of winter and the brunette felt the impulse to quicken her step. She was looking for something, or had been before she’d gotten lost, because there was no path among the dead leaves and all the black trees looked the same.

Maybe she should have gone back home, if only she could remember the way back. But Elizaveta didn’t and didn’t really care for some reason either, so she only pressed forward in no particular direction, throwing cautious glances around. At some point a thin twirl of white smoke became visible somewhere in the distance, contrasting with the dark trunks and the Hungarian suddenly felt hopeful. Maybe there was a house over there, or at least a warm camp fire?

But then she was abruptly pulled from her thoughts by a sound of heavy steps, no, not steps, hoofs. The sound was steadily growing and upon turning Elizaveta saw a soldier on a black horse emerging from among the bushes. Instinctively, she felt a pang of fear at the sight, but the man didn’t seem to have noticed her, or not yet anyway. The uniform he was wearing looked rather familiar, she thought it was… Prussian? Indeed, that dark blue with the white ribbon over it, definitely! As they approached, the horse slowed its pace and snorted, the rider leaning forward in the saddle to pat the side of its neck.

 _Gilbert_ , the brunette realized and relief flooded her at the sight of the Grim.

Only the horse came and then went past her, heading towards where the smoke was coming from, the albino completely oblivious of her presence, even if he did seem to be observing his surroundings in turn.

“Gilbert! Hey, wait!” Elizaveta shouted, rushing after him and again feeling hopeful when the black horse stopped at last and the rider dismounted. But he still wasn’t heeding her; instead something else had drawn his attention as he tied the reins loosely to a thin trunk. She saw it too, a small hut of sorts with a pointed reed roof and a crooked stone chimney, its low walls nestled between two thick trunks. The Grim waited for a bit then, his back turned and probably pondering on what to do next, giving her enough time to catch up with him and reach out to grab his shoulder.

“Gilbert! What are we doing here?! Can you tell me-“

But to her absolute horror it turned out that she couldn’t even touch him, her hand simply _going through_ his shoulder as if she were made of smoke and not flesh. The Hungarian let out a loud gasp of shock, immediately afterwards wondering if this wasn’t some magical bad joke of sorts.  The brunette was left just standing there frozen, completely unknowing what to make of things as the Prussian proceeded to creep towards the house, keeping his steps as light as he could. Elizaveta was horribly confused and frightened, wondering what would happen next. The hut’s door opened and she saw Gilbert’s hand quickly going for the hilt of his sword, probably waiting for a bunch of enemy soldiers to come out.

But it was only some dirty and unkempt hag, clothed in rags for the most part and wrapped in a thick woolen shawl which partially covered her long and messy white hair. Her lively eyes shone wickedly like a hawk’s on the wrinkled face and she let out a very distinguishable chuckle, full of open malice.

 “I have been waiting for you, Prussian,” the hag crooned, sans any other introduction, her eyes set on Gilbert and (she too) seemingly unaware of Elizaveta’s presence.  “You’re just as I pictured you. Everything I want.”

The words seemed oddly out of context and threatening even, the brunette feeling her stomach cringe. Something bad was going to happen – her instincts warned – right here and now, yet she was so frozen with fear that she couldn’t even get her feet moving from that spot. The Grim however seemed completely ignorant of the danger, even if nearby the tied horse kept snorting loudly and pulling at its reins, as if it too could feel that something was off.

“You have an empty heart, untouched by love, and a blade which has tasted blood more than once,” the woman stated smugly, content even, with no trace of worry. Which could only mean she must have had some ace up her sleeve, Elizaveta thought, or… maybe she had set a trap of sorts? Maybe someone else was hidden inside the hut, lying in wait…

“Shut up, you crazy witch!” the Prussian snapped, taking a few steps forward, hand still on the hilt of his sword. “Are you alone in there? Have you seen any soldiers around here?”

The hag chuckled. “Oh, I have seen plenty of soldiers. Had my pick from the very best, you see. And now it’s your turn, Gilbert Beilschmidt!”

“What-… How the hell do you know my name?!”

“If you did not have a handsome face, I would chop off your head and throw it in the lake for all it’s worth. Not working at all,” she said. “But as it is, I wouldn’t want to waste a good thing, so I will settle for carving out your heart.”

“What…?” the Hungarian breathed, eyes going wide as she saw the hag’s almost petite and hunched frame dissolving in a cloud of black which suddenly rushed forward, turning everything into a dark blur where there was no light, no air, no sound. Only death. By some miracle, the brunette managed to move forward towards the Grim, guided by the faint gleam of his now drawn sword, but it was only a mere flicker, lasting but a moment. A gush of poisonous wind engulfed her, the cloak slipping off her shoulders as she struggled to wave it off , rebel strands of hair flying in her face and whipping her cheeks. Elizaveta genuinely thought it she wouldn’t get to draw another breath before the darkness took her completely, yet the storm turned out to be surprisingly brief. When the air cleared once more, she saw the old woman standing only a few feet away from her, leaning over what the Hungarian realized it was Gilbert’s body, holding something in one claw-like hand.

It was a human heart, bloodied and still beating.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Elizaveta screamed, both hands flying to her mouth and eyes instantly filling with tears. Her own chest felt horribly hollow all the sudden and her legs no longer supported her. She collapsed in a heap on the ground, the last thing her eyes saw being the flock of crows perched up on the surrounding branches in wait, before the carpet of dead leaves swallowed her, like a silent tomb.

* * *

   

“GILBERT! OH MY GOD, GILBERT!”

Elizaveta sat upright in bed, chest heaving and eyes wide in the familiar darkness of her small room, hot tears still welling and falling freely down her face.

“Vhat happened, Miss Elizaveta?” The miniscule bedside lamp was hastily switched on and the Grim sat down on the edge of the bed with a concerned look in his garnet eyes. Thankfully, he was once more wearing jeans and the dark-green hoodie, because she couldn’t have stood to see that uniform again after-…. “Vhy are you crying?”

The Hungarian flung herself into his arms, nails digging desperately into his shoulders as she buried her wet face into the Prussian’s shirt. “It was horrible, horrible!” she mumbled, shaken by sobs. “She… she killed you, and then the ground and leaves swallowed me alive! How could you let that happen?! Aren’t you invincible or something?! How could you, Gilbert, it hurt so much, so much I couldn’t breathe…” She was still gripping him tightly, unwilling to let go.

“Miss Elizaveta, please, nozhing happened, it vas just a bad dream. You’re safe, I vill not let anyone hurt you, I svear.”

“I… I wasn’t saying… it isn’t about me, it’s-… I just…” The brunette sniffed, looking up at last. She tried to read something beyond the reassuring look on the Grim’s face, but he must have been very adept at hiding his emotions. “Who was that woman, Gilbert, back there in the woods? What is it that you’re not telling me?” she asked softly.

The Prussian raised his hand slowly and stroked the side of her face, in that gentle way someone infinitely old would touch a child. “Zhat vas nozhing, just a very old story, forget about it.” He was puzzled though, Elizaveta realized, catching the briefest glimpse of a frown before it disappeared behind his usual neutral expression. Now she was convinced that it had been more than just a bad dream, she had indeed _seen_ something, a memory resurfaced through their bond, but still something she wasn’t normally supposed to see.

“Please, I… I want you to stay here with me from now on. Don’t go disappearing again, okay?”

“But Miss Elizaveta, I am alvays vith you in a vay, I’m not going anyvhere. It’s just zhat I’m not visible,” Gilbert explained.

The Hungarian chewed on her lip, wondering just how reasonable her request was. It would incur a lot of explaining to do, that was for sure. Would Feliks make a fuss about it? The apartment was hella small, the last thing they needed was someone else ‘moving in’, but still. Damn, she’d have to come up with something.

“Look, Gilbert, I understand what you’re saying but… this concept is sort of hard to grasp for someone like me, you know? I’m really… new to all this magic stuff, okay? And people poofing up out of the blue and disappearing into thin air it’s not something I’m used to, it’s just… it’s weird. And call me profane if you will, but for me if I can’t see something it means it’s not there, with very few exceptions, like air and… wireless internet or something.”

“I see… but Miss Elizaveta-”

“Just Elizaveta.”

“Ja, vell ‘just Elizaveta’, my ozher contractors usually veren’t so keen on seeing me around, so I presumed zhat you vouldn’t be eizher.”

“Except I’m not like your other contractors, isn’t that what you said?” the brunette pointed, moving aside on the miniscule bed to make room and patting the place next to her. Was she flirting with him…? “Stay here with me, I’m afraid to sleep alone now,” she blurted out, completely without thinking.  

Normally it would have been a very awkward moment, but the Grim obeyed without a word and Elizaveta simply fell back on the pillows, pulling the blanket up to her chin as she curled up against Gilbert’s body and wrapped an arm securely around his waist as if to prevent escape. Her last thought as she drifted again to sleep was hoping she would not dream of the witch again.  

* * *

 

The heels of her boots clicked loudly on the well-scrubbed wooden floor as Elizaveta moved around curious, examining the various jars, boxes and bottles lined up neatly on the shelves. The shop was small but welcoming, the glass of the windows was spotless and framed with colorful lacy drapes and in the back there was a high, massive wooden counter laden with tempting candy jars. Behind it stood a sturdy blonde woman with pale blue eyes and rough features, her hair swept in a tight bun on top of her head. She wore a dark brown dress buttoned up to her chin and a crisp white apron over it.

Suddenly the brunette scowled, pulled from her previous awe by the realization that once again she was somewhere she probably wasn’t supposed to be. What the hell was this place?!

“The tax collector comes tomorrow morning, we’d better have the ledgers ready by then,” the woman spoke, eyes still on the string reels she was presently counting and Elizaveta jumped, throwing a puzzled glance around the room, because she hadn’t seen anyone else yet.

“Ja, I know, Gertrude. I will finish by then…” came a grumbled reply and she discovered the Grim sat at a small desk in a corner, half-hidden by a massive cupboard. Several notebooks and ledgers were scattered in front of him, poorly lit by a half-melted candle, and he was scribbling something down with a wooden pen.

Who knew Gilbert had done bookkeeping back when he was alive, the Hungarian thought, rushing over to see what he was doing. Already knowing that neither he nor the woman could have been aware of her presence, she leaned over the albino’s shoulder really close to peer at his work. His hand was moving slowly over the paper, meticulously filling the page with neatly written figures and dates, but he looked thoroughly morose and worn out, the black fabric of his coat bringing out even more the pallor of his complexion and the dark circles around his eyes.   

The bell above the door rang suddenly as someone walked into the shop and Gilbert looked up startled, his hand pausing above the page enough for a large drop of ink to fall from the pen and make a large, messy stain. A small gasp of dread was followed by a foul swear and his eyes darted quickly towards the blonde woman, but she hadn’t noticed anything.      

Elizaveta had been so focused on the Grim’s apparent distress that she only noticed the angry voices now resounding in the room when Gilbert stood up from his desk and rushed over to where the newcomer was threatening the woman with a cane after he’d brutally gripped her arm over the counter. He was loudly demanding more merchandise be given on credit and when the albino tried to get him off the woman he swung the cane with purpose. Gilbert stumbled a bit, then grabbed a bottle and promptly delivered a hearty whack over the attacker’s head.    

“ _Gott im Himmel_ , that was my best vinegar! You do nothing but stupidities, this time I will really tell Johann!” the blonde shrieked, just as the man was slumping limply to the ground, covered in shards and liquid. “Clean this mess right now and don’t expect any dinner tonight!”

The Grim said nothing in reply, only turned on his heel with a deep frown and walked briskly towards the door. It was slammed violently in his wake as he stormed out, the glass rattling in its wooden frame and Elizaveta woke up again.

**_To be continued_ **

****


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

A/N – Hello my dear readers and Happy New Year everyone!  Aaaand I’m back with a new chap after yet another ‘leave of absence’. I also have some brand new ideas about the plot development and I hope you guys will be just as excited as I am about it all! For now enjoy today’s update ;)

* * *

 

An instant confused frown appeared on Elizaveta’s face the moment she woke up and realised it was already morning. Next to her the sheets were creased and cold – Gilbert was gone again. She sighed, wrapping her arms around herself. Somehow, for some reason, she had foolishly hoped that daylight would bring some clarity on the situation, but it hadn’t. Things had only gotten super awkward instead, that was for certain. Had Gilbert gotten upset over the whole thing?

“Well fuck, just rise and face the shit, whatever it is,” the Hungarian grumbled, tossing the covers away and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. It felt rather chilly out of the sheets and her fluffy bathrobe would have come in handy right now, except… yeah, that was gone too, left behind in the other apartment. Maybe there would be some readymade food in the kitchen for a change? Fat chance for that though, it was Saturday.

“Elizaveta!”

Feliks’ voice nearly startled the brunette out of her skin and her sibling hastily gripping her arm wasn’t particularly soothing either. “O.M.G.!”

“Wha-“

“OH MY GOD you have to explain to me how one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever fucking seen is standing in our shit kitchen making omelet and wurst for breakfast!” the blond squealed. Elizaveta momentary ignored the ‘beautiful’ comment, focusing on the food-related information. It was indeed mouthwatering. “Where on earth did you find him?! I mean fuck, I only saw an albino like that in a fashion magazine once, is he, like, a model?!”

She took a deep breath, shoulders tensing. “Um… he’s a tax lawyer actually, we met at work and… uh… he’s my… uh… boyfriend now. So he’s gonna be living with us.”

The Pole blinked, undoubtedly struggling to process what he’d just heard. A few things – or a lot of things – in this phrase didn’t quite make sense, but what was she supposed to say? And if her aunt had bought it, maybe her brother would too, maybe the Grim’s magic would work to smooth things this time as well.

“Elizaveta, I get it that he’s like totally fucking charming and all, but you can’t just move in with some guy you just met. And besides, just because you went out, got a couple of drinks, got back home and fucked, it doesn’t mean he’s your boyfriend! Not to mention, it’s, like, a totally hella bad idea for _someone else_ to come live with us, seeing how cramped we are already!”

“Right, it’s not like this is all because of the stunt you and _your_ boyfriend pulled! Gilbert will only be occupying my room, so there’s no need to make such a fuss! I like him a lot, I want to have a bit of fun and act a little crazy for once in my life, so why can’t you just be happy for me?!”

With that the brunette stomped off angrily towards the kitchen, hoping that the sudden outburst would put off any further inquiry, at least for the moment. Seriously though, she thought, if only any of that were true… and she had never questioned any of Feliks’ relationships (out of which a few had been kind of fucked-up, truth be told).

* * *

 

In the kitchen Gilbert stood in front of the stove, skillfully whipping eggs in a pan much to the delight of an awestruck Toris, and she walked up to him pretty much wondering whether she should kiss him on the cheek, on the lips, drape an arm around his waist, the kind of normal stuff lovers did and Elizaveta happened to be pretty much clueless about. _I worked so hard all my life and tried my best to always be supportive of everyone, just to end up with an evil spirit who probably thinks I’m lame enough to try and get into the pants of a long dead man…_ Suddenly she felt horribly rejected, rejected by fate itself. Everything was so fucking unfair!  

“Hey…”

“Hey baby,” the Grim replied naturally with a smile (because everything was so fucking simple for _some_ people) and leaned in, giving her a quick, affectionate peck on the lips. Really not helping.    

The Hungarian let her head rest on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his waist, ignoring the not-so-inconspicuous chuckling coming from her brother and his boyfriend. “Gilbert…”

“Ja?”

“I’m so sorry that everything is such a shit,” Elizaveta grumbled under her breath. “Tell me you did worse.”

The albino bit his bottom lip rather amused, sharp teeth showing briefly as he did. “Ja, zhe awesome me did vorse. I once had a contractor vho used to vet himself,” he said neutrally and Elizaveta couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “Here, you’re cold, take zhis.” Gilbert shrug out of his hoodie and wrapped it gently around her shoulders, letting his fingers then trail through a long strand of chestnut hair before moving away again.

“The truth is… I just… didn’t think this through at all. I was just afraid that the thugs would get us, or I’d end up behind bars for tax evasion, I had nothing else on my mind. I just concluded this contract on impulse, when I don’t even have the faintest clue about magic and shit. And now I just… I make mistake after mistake because I don’t know what to do.”  

Probably one confession she shouldn’t have made, but the words had simply rolled out of her mouth with a will of their own. Just confirming the last statement, at any rate.

“Elizaveta, zhere’s isn’t anyzhing in particular zhat you must do under zhe contract, except for you know vhat.”

The Hungarian glanced quickly over her shoulder at the table where Feliks and Toris were seated, suddenly worried they might have caught the weird conversation, but the two boys were blissfully unaware, nursing their coffee mugs. “Yes there is,” she muttered, turning around and involuntarily pulling the sleeve of the hoodie over the black bird tattoo on her wrist. “I should at least act normal and not put you in awkward situations. And I really didn’t want to invade your privacy like that, I swear…” She paused, shaking her head and crossing her arms defensively. “I know it wasn’t just an old story…”

Gilbert pulled away from the stove, pan in hand, and walked over to the table where he filled the four plates in silence. A tension had come upon him suddenly, and even if it was barely visible in his movements – as he placed the pan in the sink and gently pulled Elizaveta in his lap as he sat down at the table – she was painfully aware of it.

“Zhere’s more, isn’t it,” the Grim murmured, burying his nose in the nape of her neck. Elizaveta was so startled by the gesture that she nearly dropped her fork, much to the other two’s amusement. “You saw more zhan just vhat happened in zhe forest? Vhat vas it?”

The brunette fought back a gasp. So… he knew about the second dream. No, he didn’t know, rather he intuited that she’d dreamed something else in addition to make her believe that the first dream had not been a mere nightmare but a _memory_ of things passed. But at least he could not read her mind (huge relief, that one!), otherwise he wouldn’t have asked. Right?  

“Nothing, it was nothing… uh… um… nothing very personal…”

“Nein?”

“Gertrude.” Damn. She had wanted to say something about the shop, or about him filling in the ledgers, or even spilling ink over the numbers, or him hitting that man, but instead the blonde woman’s name had popped up, of all the accursed details.

The albino exhaled, the conspicuous sinking of his chest ending in a groan. “Of all vretched people, _Gertrude_ …” he grumbled. “You must have seen some of mein vorst memories zhen. She vas mein sister-in-law and she-“

“Please, you don’t have to explain anything!” Elizaveta whispered quickly. “I don’t want to know anything you don’t want to tell me and certainly not _see_ it, and last night when I asked you to sleep in bed with me it was because I was just very scared and confused, there was no other reason! And as a matter of fact I am still scared because I don’t understand what is going on!”

There, the awkwardness was complete with this final touch. Who the hell says out loud ‘I’m really not trying to hit on you’ when their actions so blatantly prove otherwise anyway?! Stupid, stupid, stupid! But Gilbert only rested his chin on her shoulder, arms wrapping soothingly around her body.

“Just don’t vorry, miss Elizaveta, zhe awesome me vill keep you safe.”

* * *

 

“What’s up, luv? You texted that it was something urgent?”

The Englishman stepped out of the way to let her in and the brunette rushed inside, throwing a cautious look around. A TV was on somewhere nearby and she spotted Lukas Bondevik typing something on his laptop at one of the file-laden tables. A loud, sudden laughter seemingly coming from the room with the TV indicated that Mathias and Alfred were having fun watching something together, momentarily distracted, so she sighed in relief.

“Arthur, is there any place or any way we can talk in private? Like, completely _alone_?” Elizaveta motioned with her head towards the room the two Grims were in.

The blond gave her a questioning glance and pondered for a bit, then turned towards a panel, on which a multitude of keys of all sorts were hung. “Yeah, the vault. Come with me.”

He led the way to the back of the premises where a single metal door loomed on the darkened, peeling wall. Upon opening, it revealed a dim-lit chamber with scarce, decrepit furniture and bare concrete walls. The floor was covered with a ragged carpet and two low, dusty plush cushions were laid on it, not looking particularly inviting. Arthur motioned towards one of them for Elizaveta to take a seat and proceeded to lock the door in their wake.

“The ‘vault’, huh?” she asked warily and with a sheepish smile, throwing a rapid glance around. “I don’t see any treasure in here.”

Her friend chuckled. “Sorry, luv, not _that_ kind of vault. Besides, if we had stumbled upon a treasure of sorts we wouldn’t be toiling in this shithole, wouldn’t you say? But no, the vault is meant as a place of ultimate retreat, where no harm can enter. No spirit either, so if I get sick with that brat and his whims I can always hide in here. Sure, he’ll know I’m here, but he can’t come in or use any of his powers on me. So… what happened?”

How very reassuring, that one. Elizaveta chewed on her lip, clasping her hands in her lap nervously. “Arthur, I need you to be honest with me on one thing…” She paused, taking a deep breath. “I need to know what are the full consequences of the Grim contract.” 

“The… full consequences? What exactly do you mean?”

Had there been any subtleties to be expressed about the situation, Elizaveta would have dwelled on them, but given the facts she could only blurt out her problem, more or less coherently.

“Some really weird shit happened to me last night, okay? I dreamed about Gilbert’s death, I fucking saw that witch ripping out his still beating heart and then… then there was more, something like a scene from his life, he was working in a shop of sorts with an ugly blonde woman who was his sister-in-law and he spilled ink on the accounting books and then he hit someone over the head with a bottle of vinegar and… and… what the fuck is going on?!” she cried.

“Uh… what… witch?”

“At first he said that it was just a dream and it doesn’t mean anything, but l feel like he’s hiding something from me. And it’s like… I’m seeing stuff I’m not supposed to see, like I’m invading his privacy or something. I mean, will this go on? What if next time I see-“ _Him in bed with someone_ , she was about to say, but refrained in the last moment.

The current problem was hard to put into words, and probably her friend had understood even less out of her account than she’d made herself of things. She didn’t know what the issue really was – the sheer disturbing-ness of the dreams, the fact that she didn’t actually want to know more about Gilbert (because it was just a _service contract_ between them damn it and he was an evil ghost from hell!), or quite on the contrary, the fact that there were things he’d purposely attempted to occult from her.

Arthur scratched his head. “I… honestly don’t know what to say. The book of Grims surely doesn’t mention that sort of, uh, spiritual closeness, and I never had any dreams about Alfred’s life and… goodness, surely not about his death! Perhaps… your bond is stronger than it should be? Huh… Elizaveta…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love him?”

The brunette blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. What kind of question was that in the first place?! And of course not, she loved Roderich! That was, she _still_ loved him. And he and Gilbert were very different men, there was no one thing she could name that they appeared to have in common. The Prussian was indeed charming and mysterious and way too handsome for a mortal, but then there was a clear reason for all that.

“I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you mean,” the Hungarian replied eventually, a tad defensive.   

The Englishman tilted his head, the shadow of a smirk forming on his lips. “That wasn’t what I asked.”

“I don’t love him! As pathetic as it may sound, I still love Roderich Edelstein, I just… I can’t take him off my mind, I tried but I can’t! And besides, I only met Gilbert last week or so, I barely know him, I couldn’t have possibly-… And he’s a Grim, right? He’s an evil ghost from Hell, it’s not like anyone could forget that, no matter how awesome he is.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Awesome?”

“I mean-“

“Let’s just diagnose this as a minor crush for now, and I shall proceed to investigate whether that could have any unwanted side-effects, alright?” he said.

Elizaveta rolled her eyes. “’Minor crush’… I can’t think of anything more ridiculous!”

**_To be continued_ **

A/N – I know, a short and rather uninteresting chap at a first glance, but trust me, I does hold meaning plotwise ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

A/N – Hello everyone! After a bit of a hiatus on all my current ongoing fics due to an absolutely hectic work schedule, I am back with a new chapter! Also, much to my relief, I actually managed to (finally!) put together a chapter plan for this story, meaning that I know where this is going! Not like I’d tell you though, heh… So enjoy the new chap!

* * *

 

Elizaveta walked in and slammed the fragile wooden door in her wake with a sense of absolute exhilaration. Free! She was free! And her job was safe again, too. Eyes closed, she took a deep breath, back pressed against the hard surface and not caring that some of the chipping paint would surely get transferred onto her suit jacket. 

“Gilbert! You did it!” the brunette squealed enthusiastically, even though the Grim – who’d been left at home to keep an eye on the boys – probably knew of the result of his magic machinations well beforehand.

“Did vhat?” The albino promptly made an appearance, stepping out of the living room, Feliks in tow. His expression was completely neutral, predictably showing no enthusiasm or surprise whatsoever.

“Ludwig… I mean Mr. Beilschmidt announced that the company’s been cleared of all fraud charges! TFTE will be going at the deep end on their own in this, together with Heracles Karpusi, if they ever get their hands on him. But we’re okay, we’ve been cleared, none of us is going to jail!” the brunette chirped, happily, eyes sparkling with joy. Then she remembered frantically embracing Mr. Edelstein in the spur of the moment and her smile fell a bit. Gilbert probably knew that too.

 _So what?! What if he knows?! It’s not like we’re really together or anything…_ But the thought dampened the Hungarian’s spirits nonetheless – there was still something eating at her about it. And Gilbert also knew she’d been with Arthur in the vault, purposely doing stuff behind his back.  

“OH. MY. GOD! We like totally have to celebrate!” Feliks cried, successfully preventing a very awkward silence from settling in. “And you like totally have to come with us, Mr. Miracle Worker, my sister will buy you all the drink you want!” the blond added, winking conspicuously and motioning with his head in Elizaveta’s direction. “Right?”

The brunette blinked, momentarily confused and caught up in entirely different thoughts. “Huh? Oh… yeah. Yeah, for sure!” Then she cleared her throat, fidgeting. “Uh… why don’t you call Toris and see when he’s done at work? And we’ll go in… one hour? I need to lay down a bit…”

* * *

 

The club was packed and filled with noise, yet their booth was eerie quiet. Elizaveta peeked over her glass at the Prussian’s figure, looking for any sign of tension, but he was relaxed, shoulders hunched slightly over as his elbows rested on the table and he seemed to study his drink. Flickers of colored light shone into his pale strands every now and then and the brunette resisted a sudden impulse to reach out and caress his hair. There was something about Gilbert she could barely grasp, intuit, like a hidden fragility of sorts which made him endearing even despite his tough looks and nature.

“Today I only wanted to get some answers, there in the vault,” she said, out of the blue and sans introduction. There was no need, anyway.     

“Und did you?”

Leaning back into the plushy backrest, she shook her head, eyes wandering over the dark ceiling. “No. Arthur says it must be because we have a stronger bond than it is usual with this kind of magic contracts, but he couldn’t explain _why_.”

Better stick to that and leave out the part where her feelings for the Grim had been brought up as a possible cause. It was something she wouldn’t have delved into even within the privacy of her own thoughts. As much as she knew that Roderich was unattainable and that impossible crush was best to be let go, it was also probably better to hold on to for the moment, preferably than letting it go _now_ and _like this_. For Gilbert Beilschmidt.

“Maybe it is because I don’t… uh… I don’t loazhe you…” Gilbert said, seeming uncertain as to whether he’d found the right word or not. “I don’t resent you.”

“You don’t resent me?” 

He scowled, probably thinking he’d just made it worse, but Elizaveta simply sat there, motionless, not knowing if she should have felt a tad hurt by that indefinite something in the bluntness of his words. She probably had no right to, not after the recent string of fuck-ups.

“Vell, zhis job might have made me awesome, but zhe truth is zhat I never asked for it in zhe first place und afterwards I could never choose vho I vas vorking for. Und ja, I loazhed most of mein past contractors,” the Grim said. He straightened his back a bit, garnet eyes flicking up to the Hungarian’s face. “But zhey vere not like you.”

 _Clearly, no one is like me_ , Elizaveta thought with bitter humor. _I must be strikingly unique even for someone from Hell._

“Zhey vere a very different kind of people, driven and vith purpose.”

Ah… “While I don’t have a purpose?” _He’s probably right though…_

Gilbert bit his upper lip, fighting back amusement. “Miss Elizaveta, you don’t have to take everyzhing so negatively. I meant zhat you’re not dead set on somezhing like gazhering ill-gotten vealth or starting a var. It’s a good zhing!”

The brunette managed a small smile in turn. “I thought you’d be mad at me… For going in the vault with Arthur and all.”

“Nein, I understand zhat you vant some privacy.”

“Uh… speaking of privacy…” The brunette leaned forward again, reaching for her glass. “Looks like I’m the one invading yours lately,” she added taking a nervous gulp. 

The Grim shook his head slowly and shrugged. “Look, zhe point is… I vish you vouldn’t see more of mein life not because zhere’s somezhing vorth hiding or particularly private about it. It’s just… avful.”

Someone had to be very confident to just admit that with a mere shrug, Elizaveta thought, with a genuine mixture of awe and envy. If only she could blurt this sort of truths so serenely: ‘My aunt is a horrid snob and I hate her for all the times she humiliated me’ or ‘There are two men in my life - one is married and the other one is a ghost’ or ‘I really have no idea how I’m going to deal with all this’. But then again, Gilbert was a Grim, so those who knew him also knew better than to throw judgmental shit his way.  

“Is that why you told me that a lot of people have horrible families and I shouldn’t be worried about mine sticking out in that respect?” 

Gilbert blinked, probably having forgotten about slipping that particular remark and the Hungarian recalled his bitterness at the mention of his sister-in-law, Gertrude. _Stir old shit and it will stink anew. Why the fuck did I bring that up again? Can’t take a hint, can I…_

“Ja,” he admitted. “It vasn’t zhat bad zhough at zhe beginning, vhen I vas vith mein parents, vhen I vent to school… But it all vent to shit vhen mein older bruder Johann got married.”

He paused, uncharacteristically worrying his bottom lip as his long fingers tapped against the side of the glass. The brunette noticed his German accent had become thicker, as it did at times, but only now she caught on that it was probably a sign of nervousness.   

“With… uh… Gertrude, right?”

“Ja. Back zhen marriages vere usually arranged, so mein parents set him up vith zhe daughter of anozher rich merchant from town, Gertrude. After zhe marriage mein parents retired to a cottage in zhe countryside, leaving mein bruder zhe town house und zhe shop, und I vas supposed to have a room in zhe house and a job at zhe shop.”

The Hungarian let out a small gasp. “Wha-… you mean your parents left you in the same house with a married couple? Wasn’t that… I don’t know… odd or something?”

Gilbert mustered a cramped smile, shrugging again. “It vas a big house und besides, zhere vas nozhing else to leave to me. It vas good though, because I escaped being forced into an arranged marriage myself zhis vay. I didn’t vant to be married, marriages vere very veird back zhen… You vould have been set up vith someone you hardly knew und all zhere vas vas sitting at zhe dinner table, talking about zhe weazher, zhe price of grain und paying taxes. Zhere vas no fun, no closeness…” He grimaced. “Gertrude vas so constipated!”

“Oh God,” the brunette muttered, downing the rest of her alcohol and feeling grateful for not having lived in those times. Must have been a hundred times worse than being single and wallowing in self pity.

“But Gertrude vanted zhe house all to herself und she vould alvays start arguments und try to stir mein bruder against me. It vent like zhis for almost three years, but zhen zhe var broke out vith Austria for Silesia und I vent to var, just to get rid of zhem. I hoped zhat if Silesia vas conquered I could find some cheap land zhere or a place to live und vork and not go back home. But eizher vay I never returned, so I suppose zhat Gertrude must have been very pleased…”    

The Grim took a large gulp of his drink in conclusion and barely had the time to set his glass back on the table before Elizaveta scooted across the bench and wrapped her arms around his body. She’d acted on sheer impulse, driven by a wave of warmth towards this young man who was so protective of her and who had been plagued by such horrid fate. Gilbert simply wasn’t used to being held in someone’s arms – she could tell by the awkward vibe of his stiff posture – yet he still leaned in, pressing into her tight embrace, instinctively seeking the closeness he’d always been deprived of.

Suddenly the Hungarian’s cell phone began vibrating, the awkward dancing of the tiny device on the table surface breaking the magic of the moment. Having gotten used to being jumpy as of late, Elizaveta reached for it automatically, pulling away from the Grim and her finger impatiently sweeping over the screen. It was a text from Arthur.

_Hey, luv, just wanted to tell you that I actually found something about the stuff going on with your contract. According to some ancient texts I dug up, this sort of enhanced connection only occurs between a contractor and their Grim when they share…    true love that’s written in the stars (as improbable as that may be). You know, true love, like that shit everyone’s looking for? So chances are you might have gotten the ‘minor crush’ status a bit wrong…_

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, eyes bulging. This must have been a bad joke, surely Arthur was messing with her, this couldn’t be happening! And still…

“Vhat’s zhe matter?”

Her gaze shot back up at the Prussian, hoping, praying to God that he was clueless about what was going on. “Nothing!” she chirped, a bit too high-pitched. “Heh…. i-it’s nothing, just… Arthur got drunk again and did something stupid,” she offered, feigning an indignant look. Desperate to distract the Grim, Elizaveta stood up brusquely (getting awfully dizzy in the process) and stretched out her hand. “Hey, do you want to dance? Feliks and Toris will get suspicious if we don’t…”

* * *

 

Was she really in love with Gilbert? And what was even more worth questioning, was Gilbert in love with her too? For the bond to be this strong it would have meant that their feelings were mutual… Swaying numbly with the music, the brunette let herself enjoy the present moment, relishing the feeling of the Grim’s warm hands resting casually on the small of her back, separated from her skin by just the thin fabric of her dress. Her arms were wrapped loosely around his neck and her nose was buried into his shoulder, inhaling the soothing, familiar scent. It wasn’t so hard to believe, after all, that the Prussian should love her. After all, they were bound together, he was hers and hers alone, a free man not plagued by shadows of loves past, he would never turn his back on her and leave, he _couldn’t_ leave her. So… was she supposed to tell him about Arthur’s discovery? Despite herself, the words burned on her lips, unsaid.

“Elizaveta…”

“Yeah?”

“Ve need to get out of here,” Gilbert muttered in her hair, but with a sense of urgency nevertheless.

She pulled away a bit and looked up at him questioningly, slightly confused. “And… go where?”

“I don’t know, but ve must leave at once!”

Getting a firm grip on her wrist, the albino led her through the crowd of dancers, towards one of the back exits. From time to time he scouted their surroundings, keenly looking out for some unseen danger. They scrambled through a dark, narrow hallway, further and further away from the noisy crowd, up to a back door which Gilbert kicked open.

“Gilbert, what the hell is going on?!” the Hungarian demanded, shivering in the cold night air. When had it gotten so freezing cold anyway?

“Somezhing foul is coming, somezhing-”

His words were cut short by an icy gust of wind and a flurry of snow and Elizaveta felt the sharp miniscule crystals whipping her face and her bare arms. A massive figure had appeared at the end of the alley, standing tall and menacing against the light of the sole streetlamp, but she recognized the man regardless.

“What the fuck-…that’s Ivan Braginski, our Russian ex-landlord!” she exclaimed, before noting that there was something wrong with the coat the man was wearing, it’s sides danced surreally on air and the wind and snow seemed to emerge from its very folds.  

“Elizaveta, Ivan Braginski is no one’s fucking _landlord_!” Gilbert shouted, as if talking to an exasperating child.”He’s not even human, for fu-“

“Gilbert Beilschmidt! Fancy finding you again, my little snow bunny,” Ivan laughed, his voice roaring, one with the howling wind. “Maybe I will get my hands on you now, three times the charm, da?”

He looked about to say something else too, but suddenly Gilbert ripped off the large metal lid of a garbage container and shoved it in the Russian’s direction, successfully knocking him off his feet. Then, before she could realize what was going on, Elizaveta was scooped up in the Grim’s arms and they were up in the air, flying away from the club at top speed.

“Gil-..bert, w-where are you taking me?” the brunette asked, eyes squeezed shut and teeth chattering from the protruding cold.     

“Ve need to get to zhe Magic Club and your sorcerer friend, now!”

**_To be continued_ **

A/N – Damn Ivan, always set to get his hands on someone… hehe, finally some drama.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! A recent conversation with one of my readers and fellow authors made me realize that some of you are probably wondering what Heracles is doing right now. Don’t worry, we have reached the conclusion that he’s living the life - asleep somewhere, on a warm beach, buried in cats :)))) Having gotten that out of the way, it’s time to move on to a new chapter of this little tale, on which several characters will eventually get more or less substantially screwed (ah, you didn’t hear that!) Enjoy!

* * *

 

“Okay, so what the hell happened back there?”

Elizaveta shivered, even wrapped tightly in the blanket Arthur had provided, and fought to sit up on the sofa, resisting the urge to curl up in a fetal position and just brood. The Grim’s tension had oddly imprinted on her as well, bringing back the horrid feeling that things were spinning out of control, that she was once more surrounded by stuff she couldn’t handle. Just like that, all the peace and all the hope for better things to come, to _happen at last_ , gone.

“Ivan Braginski happened,” Gilbert said, worrying his bottom lip and looking uncharacteristically concerned. “I don’t know how he ever found us; he must have been keeping an eye on Elizaveta all along.”

“Ivan Braginski? Ah man…. Ugh, I thought he was… somewhere else,” Alfred grumbled.

“But who the hell is Ivan Braginski anyway?!” Arthur cut in. “Wasn’t he just a Russian thug or something? How in bloody hell do you all know him?”

“Ivan Braginski is a liberated Grim,” the American explained. “There’s no way of _not knowing_ him in this line of work. He’s like-“

Suddenly, Elizaveta jumped up to her feet, kicking the blanket and shoving her friend aside as her hands shot forward and fisted into the front of her Grim’s shirt. A wave of blind, helpless fury had washed over her upon hearing everyone speak like they’d gathered to debate on magic theory and not the matters at hand, and as if she wasn’t there at all!

“We left my brother back there!” she shouted. “We left Feliks and Toris back there! What if something happens to them?! How the fuck could it occur to you that I’d ever leave them behind?!” Both her voice and fingers shook worse and worse with each word and the brunette blinked quickly to hold back the tears of despair.

“My contract is vith you,” Gilbert said sternly.  

“THIS WAS NEVER ABOUT ME! It was Toris who pushed Natalya out the window and it’s he and Feliks who owe Ivan the fucking money!”

The Prussian sighed. “It vas Natalya vho came for zhe money in zhe first place. Ivan Braginski is an immortal sorcerer, he vouldn’t give a flying fuck about zhe money or your bruder. _You only_ became important to him vhen you concluded zhis contract.”

Elizaveta pulled away, shaking her head slowly. She understood now – a Grim could not be killed, not even hurt significantly unless someone got to their contractor. Killing their contractor was the only way to send them back to hell. Ivan wanted to get his hands on Gilbert for some reason and so he wanted her. And he probably would use Feliks and Toris to get to her.  

“So what… what now, huh? My brother and I are now caught in your feud!? He will kill us just to get to you, won’t he?!”

“Liz, please calm down-“ Arthur intervened, but the Hungarian wasn’t finished.

“Oh, he will, because he’s killed other contractors of yours before, hasn’t he? Hasn’t he?! Answer me, Gilbert!”

The Grim was now white as a sheet, eyes widened with a mixture of horror and pain, his lips slightly parted as if he were struggling to draw proper breath. More than just a hunch then, another piece of unfortunate information which had slipped through their bond. Who knew how many dark secrets were still left untold, carefully hidden?! She must have been absolutely mad to think _this_ (whatever the fuck this was!) would ever work between them! 

“I von’t let him hurt you, I svear.”

“How?! You failed before!”

Gilbert moved and gripped her wrist, so tight that it almost hurt, but in the next second calm seeped into her whole being like a cold mountain spring pouring over wildfire. Her body relaxed gradually and Elizaveta sunk back onto the soft cushions, drawing a deep breath. All anger was gone now, leaving nothing but an overwhelming sense of fatigue in its wake.

“So what in bloody hell’s a liberated Grim?” the Englishman inquired, looking impatient and turning to Alfred. “And why the hell didn’t you tell me about this sod before? Aren’t we here, at the Magic Control Department, supposed to know if there’s a malevolent sorcerer on the loose on our bloody turf?!”

“Because no one can know vhere he is until he actually decides to make an appearance,” Gilbert explained, crossing his arms. “As for his nature, a liberated Grim is someone vith a _reverse_ contract, meaning it’s zhe human contractor vho serves zhem, and not zhe ozher vay around. But zhis can only happen if a Grim has had at least three contractors from zhe same bloodline… and also a liberated Grim is much more poverful zhan any of us. Ve do our best to avoid zhem if possible…”

“Yeah, and if they’re attached to a particular enduring bloodline and make sure everyone summons them, they can basically live forever,” Alfred supplied. “This is how Ivan Braginski has managed to secure his forever after so far.”

The green-eyed blond scowled.” But his ‘life source’ must still be in this world, right? As he lives, he can still die if his contractor dies, isn’t it?”

“Once a Grim becomes liberated, he can form multiple contracts, as long as it’s vith people from zhe same bloodline for example fazher and son, such zhat he can ensure his ovn continuity in zhis vorld after zhe death of one of his contractors. He vill only die if all zhe contractors are killed.”  

While absently absorbing the information passed on between the men, Elizaveta pulled out her phone and texted Feliks to see if he and Toris were ok, and after getting her brother’s reply wrote back and informed him that probably she and Gilbert would spend the night elsewhere and they shouldn’t worry.  _Shouldn’t worry…_ But still, there were zero guarantees that Ivan wouldn’t go after them – perhaps use the two boys as leverage if nothing else – and if he’d been keeping an eye on her the Russian probably knew where they lived.

“The only way in which we can make sure he doesn’t get what he wants is Feliks and I – and all the people we care about, for that matter – moving into the vault where Ivan Braginski can’t reach us and rotting in there for the rest of our lives.” 

The Hungarian bit her dry bottom lip and looked up at the three young men, whose conversation had been abruptly brought to a halt by her words. 

“Nein, zhat’s not an option.”

“Then what is an option, Gilbert? Watching him kill everyone I care about until he finally gets to me?”

* * *

 

The room Arthur had prepared for the night was almost as cramped as her own back at the apartment and a single dull light bulb illuminated the worn furniture and the dubious white of the bleached sheets laid on the bed. Just like the ‘vault’, it had no windows, only bare concrete walls, giving her the same feeling of being trapped and half buried alive, destined for slow suffocation.  

“So… think I’ll ever be out of this room?” the brunette said with a snort. “Can’t fucking believe it! And to think that only two hours ago I was feeling so-“

Her words were cut short when the Grim turned on his heels and gripped her arm, only this time there was no gentleness in his gesture, it was meant to hurt. His eyes, as he glared at her, no longer had the usual dull shade of garnet, but were a bright red, burning with all the flames of Hell.  

“Elizaveta, I don’t know vhat you zhink or how you feel, but I really vish you vouldn’t forget vho I am und vhat I am!” he hissed. “I am bound to do mein job even if it means atrocity und if Ivan Braginski has bound himself to an entire family of innocent people by fooling zhem into a contract, don’t zhink I vill not slaughter zhem all if I can! Even if you don’t agree vith zhis, because zhis is no longer your decision to make!” His free hand closed brutally around Elizaveta’s jaw, forcing her chin up.”Und don’t zhink zhat just because you saw a few zhings from mein past now you know me, or zhat you could ever get close to me!”   

Those harsh words should have undoubtedly been hurtful, if the Hungarian hadn’t been able to sense the horrid despair which no amount of roughness could conceal. Gilbert was trying to push her away on purpose, so that she wouldn’t be disappointed, so that she wouldn’t suffer or cling to false, traitorous hopes as the gloomy future would come to pass. Everything would be easier if she loathed and dreaded him, if she thought him a monster. Was that not in itself an act of love?  

“But I do know you…” she murmured with a sad smile. “No matter how much you keep claiming that you only do this for the taste of my blood.”

The Prussian pulled away a bit and grinned, snorting lightly. “But ja, I only do zhis for zhe taste of your blood,” he replied. 

Then his hand shot out, fisting in Elizaveta’s hair and pulling her head backwards. Her chest was crushed against his as she was harshly pulled closer and the albino bit down into her exposed throat without warning. The brunette cried out, eyes widening with the shock of sudden, sharp pain, nails instantly digging into the Grim’s shoulders. Yet she didn’t try to struggle out of his grip, fingers eventually relaxing into an absent caress and threading through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

Her perception registered everything in fragments of consciousness: the random flickers of the dust-covered light bulb, the taut mattress bouncing slightly under her back as they tumbled onto the bed, Gilbert growling lowly from time to time, like a wild beast. If only there was some pleasure in the midst of all the pain, the brunette thought randomly. _If I do this, he will obey me… he has to. The contract gives him rights, but then I have some as well… He belongs to me!_ He belongs to me, Elizaveta mentally repeated numbly, gripping the Grim’s hand and forcing it away from where it was pinning her shoulder down and instead pressing it flatly onto her breast.  

Gilbert’s large palm was hot against the thin fabric of her dress and when it moved, fingers squeezing lightly, it sent instant chills down her spine. His other hand maintained its grip in her hair, even as his mouth eventually moved away from her throat and was pressed against hers. It just felt _so right_.

Elizaveta’s breath came in short rasps as she was nearing the brim of unconsciousness, every sense sharpened, every sensation enhanced tenfold. Teasing fingers peeled off the straps of her dress and danced up her thighs, under the fabric, gliding over her heated skin, only right then the brunette did not have that sort of patience. Time was running short, there was a sense of urgency as she wrapped her legs around the Prussian’s hips and her own hands slipped impatiently under the hem of his shirt, searching the soft skin under the cloth she nearly ripped off of him. Nails clawed at his bare shoulders and dug into his back, she wanted more than the lips now only nibbling softly on her pulse point, she wanted more, _faster_! There was a horrid premonition lingering in the back of her mind, on the edge of dream, that this moment was slipping away never to return and she wanted Gilbert etched into her very flesh before it would all be over too soon. Tears blurred Elizaveta’s vision and she inhaled sharply, shuddering, pulling the Grim up into a hungry, sloppy kiss as soon as he’d eased himself into her. Their bodies fell into a perfectly matched rhythm almost at once, roughly, greedily and even through the lustful haze it was frighteningly obvious how well they fit each other, her breast in the cup of his warm hand, their lips locked, her legs around his waist, her fingers tangled in his short, spiky hair. Somehow, he knew all the right buttons to push, in and out, each thrust and each stroke bringing her closer to the edge, to the brink of absolute pleasure.

Only beyond the edge there was no sweet afterglow, no whisper and no loving embrace. There was only an empty abyss.

* * *

 

Elizaveta stared blankly at her outstretched hand, eyes glued to the luscious black ink on her wrist. Again and again her teary gaze traced the large, outspread wings of the eagle, its strong beak and fine sharp claws. Next to her hand, on the pillow, there was a piece of paper, slightly crumpled at the corners. The letter did nothing to soothe the void left by Gilbert’s absence, because he was really gone – even if the Grim mark remained – she could _feel_ that this time he wasn’t nearby anymore.

_Dear Elizaveta,_

_I promised you that I will protect you, let no harm come to you and I am now making good on my words. It’s me Ivan Braginski wants and if I surrender myself to him, you and your brother will be safe. The contract is suspended from this moment onwards and you can make another contract with a new Grim if you still need a protector. I have never, ever loved anyone… no one but you. That’s why I want you to live happily and maybe one day find a worthy man who you will have children with and who will grow old with you. Please, forget about me._

_Gilbert_

**_To be continued_ **

**_A/N – Wow… a short, creepy chap where it turns out Ivan’s the worst shit in the fucking history of bad shit (how unpredictable was that), our OTP hooks up in the most unromantic setting possible  and then Gilbert disappears (again!) leaving behind a short letter which explains… uh… everything and nothing really. Worry not though, he hasn’t dumped Elizaveta for Ivan (this is not one of_ ** **those _tales of horror). Oh, and if you think this can’t get any worse, actually it will (hopefully in a longer chap next time). See ya!_**


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

A/N – Hello everyone! Believe it or not I got some of the old excitement back over this little tale along with the new inspiration, so I’m ready to go! Like I promised, some more drama and darkness this way comes, because heck, why not. Also, in this chap there shows up a new character – sorry guys, I know I’m like super partial towards him, but he is after all _my_ voice and ultimate expression Hetalia-wise (also, there’s no crack without this mischievous boy). Anyway, enough ranting, enjoy the new update!

 **Warning** : self-harm

* * *

 

“Are you sure the charm will hold?”

“S’alright, luv, I’ve got them. They’ll be here for as long as needed and won’t remember shit afterwards,” the Englishman assured, calmly sipping his tea.

Elizaveta still couldn’t believe the situation they were in and the fact that she’d asked her friend to charm Feliks and Toris into temporarily moving in with her at the Magic Club headquarters. It was crazy, but no one yet found Gilbert’s letter reassuring enough in regard to Ivan Braginski’s intentions and she wanted to know her family was safe, out of the Russian’s reach. And no matter how fucked up this was, it was better to have both boys numb, endlessly glued in front of the TV, rather than asking questions or noticing that she looked as if freshly dug up from a grave. Because indeed, the brunette looked nothing short of terrible – there were deep, dark shadows around her hollow eyes and her face had lost all color, instead altered to a dry, papery whiteness.  

_‘Why did Gilbert leave me?’_

_‘Because he loves you. Because he knew that if he didn’t, you’d spend the rest of your life running and hiding.’_

Not good enough. And there was more that this true love story turned horribly wrong, something which no one would say out loud.

_‘Why does Ivan Braginski want Gilbert? What will happen to him?’_

Alfred had not answered, he’d only looked away, uncomfortable, because for all his centuries a part of him was still a clumsy child incapable of hiding his thoughts and emotions. And Gilbert was a fool. The mere fact that he’d thought Elizaveta could simply forget him was proof he wasn’t aware of their bond, he still didn’t comprehend how much of him she was still able to _feel_.

The Hungarian walked back into the small kitchenette and numbly resumed preparing dinner – a pathetic attempt at normalcy. But it was useless, she was broken, like a porcelain doll someone had cruelly smashed against a hard floor, letting the shards scatter all over the place, impossible to be pieced back together again. Randomly, Elizaveta’s eyes fell on the loose shirt sleeve which had ridden up as she was working, landing on the wicked Grim mark which lingered now like a mockery.

And in that moment she snapped.

Thin fingers clutched the knife she’d used to chop onion and raising the blade the brunette drove it down viciously right through the black tattoo on her wrist. A loud cry erupted from her throat, but neither the pain nor the blood gushing from the wound were enough. Wailing, she wrenched the knife from the flesh and lifted the bloodied blade to her throat. One swift slice across the skin and it would all be-

“MISS, DON’T DO IT! STOP!”

Elizaveta continued to whimper and struggle, weaker and weaker as strength was leaving her, but Alfred’s arms held her in an iron grip. The American forced the knife out of her hand and it fell onto the tiled floor, splattering gruesome red drops.

“Liz, what have you done?!” she heard Arthur cry, then asking something else she was unable to make out. His face already swam before her eyes.

“I c-can’t… let… this hap-ppen… not, n-no more…” Tears had formed a suffocating knot in her throat, preventing speech and breath alike, but she struggled regardless. “I w-won’t allow G-Gilbert t-to be tortured for the rest of my l-life, I can’t!” The Englishman was white as a sheet, lips slightly parted in horror, a clear indication that her instincts had not deceived her. “P-Please, Artie, l-let me die… I c-can’t let him suffer!”

“I won’t let you die!” the blond shouted angrily, stuffing a pillow under Elizaveta’s head after she’d been laid down on the living-room sofa. He tried to sound firm but his hands were trembling. “You can’t expect me to let you die, you’re like a sister to me! Gilbert made his choice! True, he did it for you, because he loves you, but it was still his choice, don’t you understand?! He wanted you to live, for fuck’s sake!”

She was slipping away, the dark abyss of despair, the empty void between life and death was ready to swallow her completely this time and she would hang in there, stuck in limbo for eternity, suffering without end and without being able to as much as scream.

“If they have a bond, then she must be feeling whatever he is feeling,” a soft, calm voice said, and the brunette saw Lukas leaning over the backrest. “I don’t suppose we can fix it.”

“But-“

“We might know someone who… might know something…” the Norwegian suggested, half-heartedly, and Arthur looked up at him and scowled.

“Fine, you talk to him then!”

Lukas shook his head.

Elizaveta gasped, fighting for breath. Maybe there was a tiny flicker of hope after all? Maybe… “I-I will t-talk to him… p-please…!”

* * *

 

A few days passed, in which the Hungarian kept slipping in and out of a fitful sleep, full of bizarre and frightening dreams she couldn’t remember afterwards. Only the bone-deep feeling of dread lingered after waking, clinging to her every moment. Arthur fawned over her constantly and he’d made sure one Grim or the other were discreetly keeping an eye on her, for fear that she’d attempt to hurt herself again. Elizaveta also had a strong suspicion that her friend had tried to charm her into submission as well, but the spell had failed because of the Grim bond. In all truth, she must have been mad, but she wouldn’t have wished the bond gone even if it were possible. It was the only thing she had left of Gilbert.  

But at least there was some sort of hope after all, the only reason she willed her body into recovery – every now and then she’d hear Lukas and her friend talk about the mysterious person who might have been able to provide help. Of course, there was no way of knowing whether they weren’t in fact hoping to sever her contract completely and the worst fears would corner Elizaveta upon that thought, but maybe… just maybe… there was a chance of getting Gilbert back.    

“How are you feeling, luv?”

Arthur’s voice brought her back from the labyrinth of thoughts and the brunette blinked slowly, pushing herself up on the pillows. Her lips mustered a wry smile as she looked down at the bandaged wrist, it was funny how she’d almost felt no pain from the cut, although the knife had nearly come out on the other side. Must have paid off to have magically gifted friends, after all.

“I’m fine, I guess…”

 The sorcerer’s bright green eyes softened even more and he reached out, gently brushing Elizaveta’s bangs away from her forehead. “Oh, Liz, I’m so sorry… I can’t help but feel that this is all my fault. If I hadn’t pushed you into forming a Grim contract-“

“Then some other shit would have happened,” the Hungarian said softly. “Please don’t blame yourself for anything, there was absolutely no way of knowing how things would turn out, you just wanted me to be safe. But now just… just help me, yes?”

The blond sighed, hesitation obvious in his lowered gaze. “Look, I really can’t promise you that we’ll solve this. If anything, we might get into even more trouble in the end.”

She smiled. More trouble sounded better than nothing.

* * *

 

Elizaveta looked up at the run down façade of the large house, then at the unkempt front yard covered in dried grass and shrubbery, through which a dirty brick path winded all the way to the double wooden doors. The brown paint was peeling off badly around the brass ornaments, giving them a thoroughly decrepit air and up above them the small decorative window was broken and ivy vines tangled in and out of the cracks. None of the tall, gothic windows were lit, seemingly blinded with thick curtains on the inside and there was no other light visible aside from the dirty lamp hanging above the entrance on a rusty chain.

Thankfully, the potion she’d been given earlier had her up on her feet and strong enough to face the meeting, but the cold evening wind still seeped through her light peacoat, making her shake a bit. She was horribly nervous though, because Arthur had never told her what to expect out of this.

“Okay, who the hell lives here? You can’t just expect me to plunge in the dark like that!” Alfred complained. “How am I supposed to protect you if I don’t even know what I’m up against?!” he pointed petulantly.

Arthur rolled his eyes, pushing the rusty gate open and advancing towards the house. “You will protect me best if you keep your mouth shut.”

The American was about to say something in reply, but before the green-eyed blond could reach out to ring the doorbell, one of the doors swung open brusquely, revealing a black-clothed figure. The man, with sleek black hair perfectly parted in the middle, came out on the first step, allowing the yellow glow on the lamp to show his pale complexion and dark green eyes. He wore a black, austere three-piece suit adorned with a pocket watch, which only added to his stiff air and the unpleasant, almost hostile expression of his otherwise youthful and rather handsome face.  Elizaveta randomly wondered if he wasn’t some kind of cosplayer.

“Good evening,” Arthur greeted smoothly, unsurprised. “We would like to see your master.”

The butler’s suspicious gaze swept over the three of them and he scowled slightly. “Is he expecting you?” he asked dryly and with a strong Slavic accent.

“Uh, no… but he will be pleased to see us,” the Englishman offered.

 “You I doubt,” the brunet replied, in the same unfriendly tone. “Her maybe…” he added, his eyes giving Elizaveta a quick once-over. “Anyway, come in.”

They were invited into a dark hallway lit dimly by dripping candles which were casting sinister shadows onto the chipping walls and the spider webs draped in the corners. The air was stale and musty-smelling, as if the windows hadn’t been opened in a very long time. Who the hell lived here, indeed? Probably some sinister old man, Elizaveta thought. The brunet young man walked stiffly in front of them, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the nondescript, half-rotten rug, up to a tall door which he opened slowly, with a dramatic flick of his wrist. He motioned for them to step in and remained in the back, at a respectful distance.

The room, bathed in the warm glow of countless candles, was excessively large - the effect amplified by the lack of furniture - and as she’d guessed the curtains were covered by thick velvet drapes. In the middle of the room there sat a tall, polished throne with red plush cushions, facing the door, and Elizaveta saw a teenage boy slumped across it, legs hanging over one of the armrests. His light-brown hair was rather long and messy, and he wore an oversized, red-and-black striped hoodie over black skinny jeans torn at the knees and converses. He also had a sleep mask on and was giving no sign of being awake.

“Seriously, Kirkland,” the boy spoke without warning, in a soft and heavily accented voice (although his seemed to be different from the butler’s), “I know my English is bad, but which part of ‘I don’t want to work for you’ don’t you understand?”

“Well, I got it, really, that’s not why-“

“Dude, why do you sit on a throne?” Alfred cut in.

The boy stirred at last, a delicate hand with black-nailed fingers pushing the sleep mask up. His irises were a bright, ruby red, making his pale skin and the deep shadows around his eyes appear all the more striking. He threw the American an irritated glance.

“I sit on a throne because I am a prince,” he said, as a matter-of-fact.

Alfred snorted. “Prince of what?” He squinted, ignoring his contractor who was motioning to him to shut up. “You’re just a vampire… and you don’t even sparkle!”

Next to the brunette, Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head and indeed, it did not take much knowledge of the Underworld etiquette to know that this had probably been a faux pas. On the throne, the boy blinked, eyes widening as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“Really, Kirkland, did you have to summon the dumbest Grim of all?” the vampire said at last, resuming his bored expression. “Regardless of how hopeless you seem to be, I still won’t work for you, not even if you bring me _treats_ ,” he said stretching his legs lazily, only in the next moment he’d jumped off his seat and was right in front of Elizaveta, invading her personal space.

_How rude!_

She tried to step back but the boy had her cornered, and lifted her chin up with two fingers. “Oh… you don’t like it here, you think my house is decrepit and dirty? It’s Tsvetan’s fault, I’ve been keeping him in my employment for centuries and he never bothered to clean up. He’s a shit butler, really,” he said motioning towards the servant and sighed, pouting. An indignant gasp came from the man in question and the boy smiled widely, showing sharp teeth.

“Hey, I’m not a _treat_!” the Hungarian snapped, pushing away. “We’re here because we need your help, and you haven’t even introduced yourself!”

The vampire blinked again, taken by surprise. “Ah, well, it’s not like you could pronounce my full name anyway,” he replied, shrugging playfully. “But you can call me Alin. It means ‘ I soothe’”.

“You’re joking, right?” Alfred said, baffled.

“Look, enough of this nonsense, yeah?” Arthur intervened. “We’re here about a serious matter, namely the sorcerer Ivan Braginski. Please, Alin, we need your help and we’d really appreciate at least some information.”

Elizaveta scowled, because the vampire boy still wouldn’t move away from her, and her increasing annoyance clearly amused him a lot. His eyes also followed hers insistently, as if he was trying to read her mind. “You have seen Ivan Braginski’s mother,” he said, circling the brunette and hands resting on her shoulders from behind. “The _mother_ of all Grims.”

The Hungarian flinched, gripped again by that horrible memory once more.  

“Before her death, the witch who created the Grims – by the way really bad choice with you (he pointed to Alfred) – thought in the end that it was a good way to make her own biological son Ivan immortal using the same method. All she needed was a family with three generations of fathers and sons and the deed was done.”

“No…. no way! No way she ripped her own son’s heart out!” Elizaveta whispered, hands flying to her mouth and tears pricking her eyes as the dreadful images flooded her mind. Suddenly this was a bit too much to take in. No, no, she had to focus! She was here for Gilbert, not the creepy Russian’s life story.

“So why is he after the other Grims?” Arthur inquired. “Does he have some twisted mum issues or what?”

The vampire shrugged. “I wouldn’t delve into any of Ivan Braginski’s logic,” he stated. “What exactly do you want to know though? The name of his current contractor?”

“My friend Elizaveta is a contractor and Ivan Braginski took her Grim prisoner because it seems they have some sort of feud. We need to know if there’s any way to get him back.”

Alin looked genuinely surprised. “What?! You actually _escaped_ your Grim, which is in itself unprecedented, and you want him back? Why?”

“Because I love him,” Elizaveta replied sternly. “We’re together.”             

“Awwww… “ the vampire sighed dramatically. “But my sweet girl, my dear darling… _he’s dead_. You should probably… I don’t know… give him up?”

“No! I will never give him up!”

The boy pulled away, sauntering back towards his throne where he plopped with a gratified smirk. “Well, that’s unfortunate… I mean, Ivan must have locked him up in his special maze. No one _ever_ got out of there.”

**_To be continued_ **


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! I may have experienced a short lack in terms of inspiration lately, but now I’m back with some more of this crazy stuff (and I know you’ve been waiting for it, too ;)). Things didn’t sound encouraging the last time, but hey, there’s plenty of room for even worse, right? So enjoy!  

* * *

 

“What do you mean, his _special maze_?”

Alin scratched his head, appearing unsure as to how to phrase his reply. “Well, I suppose the concept in itself is not exactly new, many sorcerers devise a special place in which to lock up their enemies and torment them.”

“That’s bullshit!” the American cut in again. “Why would they? Most sorcerers I’ve heard of just kill their enemies. Why would they bother taking – and keeping – prisoners? It’s a fucking waste of time and effort!”

“What a simplistic approach,” the vampire replied bored, waving his hand. “You kill them quickly if you just want to remove a complication, but what if you get emotionally invested enough that you want them to suffer?”

“Do _you_ get emotionally invested?”

Alfred’s question went ignored as Elizaveta felt the vampire’s gaze burn into her very soul. There must have been no compassion in it - he was probably a cruel and malevolent little bastard by nature - but rather something else, like an endless curiosity. _I want Gilbert back_ , she thought, wondering if the boy could read it, _I want him back and I am ready to go to the very depths of Hell to get him, if I must!_  

“Do you want to see the maze?” Alin asked, a subtle yet clear challenge in his tone, even though it had come out slightly awkward, as if he was trying to conceal something, maybe chagrin. He stood up again from his seat, this time slower and with more _human_ movements, and walked up to a drape covering the wall. “It’s not a _maze_ per say, but rather a different dimension created by powerful magic,” he went on explaining, avoiding the Hungarian’s gaze now as his pale hand found purchase in the thick velvet. “It’s called a maze because there’s supposedly a way out of it and whoever finds it can escape.”

 “ _Break out and be free once more/That, if you can find the door_ ,” Arthur said. “Only I think….”

“That there might be _no_ door after all,” the vampire supplied, shrugging. “Anyway, has any of you ever played _American McGee’s Alice_? I’d say that the maze Braginski has devised for his own entertainment purposes is awfully similar to it, a place of utter creepiness and horrors. To put it mildly.”

“Oh. So Braginski’s infamous maze looks like an old, half-assed video game,” Alfred observed. “What? The first version came out back in 2000,” he added defensively upon being shot a couple of confused looks by his companions. “It’s really fucking ancient!”

Alin nodded, throwing up the drape off a tall mirror embedded into the wall. “Indeed. Except, of course _it’s not_ a video game and still something worth showing to the profane mortals who probably spend their time with more meaningful pursuits that playing the dumbass video games you seem so privy to.” 

Some more bickering ensued as a result, but Elizaveta ignored it entirely, eyes and steps equally drawn to the mirror as its murky depths began to clear and give way to an actual image. She saw a cracked pocket watch in free fall through a well of sorts, then a torn, dirty stuffed rabbit floating in the water. A tunnel with muddy walls and wooden, wobbly floorboards appeared next, along with a sinister girl in a blue, bloodstained dress. Fumes and grates, fires burning in the distance, screeching cogwheels, eerie sounds and distant wails. A gruesome, oversized cat was saying something, motioning with a sharp-clawed paw.

The brunette exhaled, face now mere inches from the glass. There was a horrid meaning way beyond the colorful, animated forms on the show, a vibe of dread which slowly seeped into her body as she watched, throat constricting further with each breath.

The girl had a knife now and was fighting a card-shaped guard armed with an axe. The blade swished through the figure, splattering blood on the ground and walls as the remains of the body dissolved in an outburst of purple flames.

 “T-That’s just…”

“That’s just the first level and this trailer isn’t that good anyway. Graphics aren’t impressive either,” the American pointed, partially breaking the evil spell. “But heh… knowing Ivan Braginski, he might have done a better job with the special effects…”

_There is so much darkness… and so much fear… So much pain…._

Elizaveta faltered, hugging herself. “No… I don’t believe it!” she whispered. “I don’t believe you!” Fists clenched at her sides, she turned to face the vampire boy where he stood with arms crossed. “There is no maze! Gilbert’s not in there, I know he isn’t, you’re lying to me!” the brunette hissed. “You’re lying because you want me to give up on him!”

_You know he is._

She turned again towards the mirror, pressing her palms flat against the ice cold surface as she stared helplessly at the moving scenes. Giant ants with spikes for legs and jagged wings and acid green eyes were popping out of the cracked ground, ready to attack the girl. Next a bloody mouth opened to swallow her, grinding teeth ready to chew barely avoided by the protagonist with a bold jump. The insides of a cave, where dried human bones cracked under her feet and sharp spikes of stone were raining from the ceiling.

_He is there. I can feel it. Right now… he is suffering._

“I want to go into the maze.”

Alin blinked, tilting his head like a curious puppy. “Hmm… you genuinely think you can get in without an ‘invitation’? And get out afterwards, just like that?”

“ _You_ ’ve been in!”

“Oh no, I merely used a spell to take a peek. Do you think Braginski wouldn’t know if someone was to actually break into his precious contraption? I suppose we could call it that… And I really wouldn’t want him coming after us next, for that matter.”

“Luv, listen to me, the maze sounds like a very bad idea. In fact, coming here tonight was a very bad idea, I’m sorry,” Arthur intervened, gently taking a hold of his friend’s shoulders and pulling her away from the mirror. “Let’s get you home now, you’re not fully recovered yet, you must sleep.”

* * *

 

Sleep….

Only sleep wouldn’t come this time, sleep refused to offer its blessed solace. The bed was a gaping black hole eagerly waiting to swallow her in any given moment, the soft feeling of pillows and sheets against skin distant and surreal. Darkness. Silence, like a sewn mouth no longer able to utter words, to express anything.

Lying motionless between the crumpled sheets, eyes widely staring at the ceiling, Elizaveta found herself suddenly envying the vampire boy. If the stories were true, whenever he would lay down in his coffin to rest for the day, he would be dead. If only Arthur could be persuaded to let her go, to let her… be gone! What was the purpose of this?! Everyone was suffering – Gilbert and her, Feliks and Toris, trapped in that numbing spell like ragged dolls… What was the point? Why fight? Why go on? For what?

There was a shy knock on the door.

_If it’s Arthur I’ll give him a piece of my mind, right now!_

On the other side of the door someone was fidgeting, impatient.

_No… not right now… maybe right now it’s not a good time-_

The door creaked open and whoever it was crept in on tiptoes, stopping at the foot of the bed. Still, the brunette would let them wait, she was supposed to be asleep after all and any form of communication felt momentarily too exhausting to attempt. Maybe they were just checking on her and would leave if she just lay still, with her eyes closed and trying to breathe regularly. At any rate, the unknown figure just looming there profiled against the shadows was becoming increasingly unnerving.

“Please, Miss, I know you’re not sleeping-“

“What the hell, Alfred?!” Elizaveta sat up brusquely, startled, clutching the covers to her chest. “What is it?!”

The Grim stuttered, adjusting his spectacles with a blatantly nervous gesture. “Forgive me, Miss, I… I need your help with something. It’s, ah, it’s Arthur, actually.”

The Hungarian scowled, reaching for the small lamp on the nightstand and switching it on. “What about him?”

“I… Lukas is out with Mathias on an assignment of sorts, so there was no one else to ask, again I’m sorry for waking you! It’s just… he went into the vault again a while ago because we had a little, um… disagreement, and now he wouldn’t even answer when I called at the door!”

“Mmmhhh… what if he just went to sleep in there, Alfred? It’s late,” Elizaveta pointed, stifling a yawn. Great, _now_ she was finally sleepy.

“No, Miss… I think something’s wrong,” the American insisted. “I have a bad feeling about this, I just do, something must have happened to him! And I need you to open the door and go into the vault, since as you know that I can’t…”

The brunette huffed, eventually hauling herself up and out of the bed. She proceeded to collect a warm woolen jacket from the nearby seat and throw it over the Englishman’s large pajama top she was wearing, wiggling her toes inside the plushy slippers. The chill still nipped at her bare legs, making her groan and inwardly grumble about how Alfred and Arthur were both annoying brats who totally deserved each other.

Without Lukas around working late hours the whole place was dark and even more sinister than usual, and Elizaveta couldn’t help throwing a quick glance towards the door behind which Feliks and his boyfriend were sleeping.  What if this place wasn’t that safe after all? The fearful thought was quickly dismissed when Alfred impatiently pressed the spare key of the vault into her palm.

“Arthur! It’s me, Liz! Are you in there?! Can I come in?” she called loudly before inserting the iron key into the rusty lock.

There was no answer.

The key growled turning in the lock and she pushed the door open, eyes squinting at the flicker of candles coming into view. There were at least a dozen, scattered haphazardly on the concrete floor and burned down almost to the bottom, the tiny flames now shining into the trembling puddles of melting wax.  The room was empty and pretty much unchanged from the time she’d been inside herself.

“He’s not here, Alfred,” she concluded, turning away from the sight. “Maybe he left when you weren’t paying attention?”

“It doesn’t work that way, Miss, I _always_ know where he is!” the American stated. “What is that?!” he cried, suddenly pointing to something in the room and Elizaveta wheeled around, squinting again. She reached for the light switch and when the bulb came to life she finally saw what else was there beside the burned candles: a gigantic pentagram drawn in various colors of chalk.

With slow, uncertain steps the brunette walked up to where it lay like a sinister spider web and let her gaze wander over the various symbols dotting the lines and joints, stained with melted wax and something else which looked suspiciously like drops of blood. And then she saw something else aside from the symbols, three words scribbled awkwardly across the lines near the middle by a hurried, trembling hand, in black chalk.

_… IN THE MAZE._

“NOOOO! No! Please, no! PLEASE, GOD, NO!”

Elizaveta collapsed on the cold concrete, fingers curling helplessly against the drawings and only vaguely aware that the bloodcurdling shriek had been hers. It just couldn’t be! Had her friend attempted to investigate the maze for her sake, for wanting to help her nearly lost cause? Was this all her fault?! Was she cursed to lose everyone dear to her to Ivan Braginski and his damned maze?!

“Miss?! What’s going on?! Are you alright?!”

She turned slowly towards the confused American, tears trickling down her pale cheeks. “He’s gone, Alfred… Braginski took him,” she gulped, choking and struggling back to her feet. “I’m sorry, Alfred, I’m so sorry!” Arms wrapped tightly and defensively around herself, the Hungarian hesitated on the threshold, sobbing. “I didn’t mean to-… I just… I never thought he would try to-… Please forgive me Alfred, this is all my fault! This… I-It’s all because of me!”

“Ohhh, no, Miss! Please don’t say that, it’s not your fault at all!”

“H-How can it not be?” Elizaveta moaned, fingers now gripping the Grim’s shirt as she instinctively curled up in the soothing warmth of his arms. “He must have done it for me… just because… he couldn’t just let go of me…”

“Of course he couldn’t let go of you, Miss, he loves you! No one lets go of those they love, now do they? But this wasn’t your fault, it was no one’s fault.”

* * *

 

By the time the two of them had made it back to the vampire’s house it was already morning. Lukas and Mathias had not returned yet and there was no time to waste - the fact that Alfred was still around was proof that somewhere in Braginski’s maze his contractor was still alive, but there was no way of knowing how long Arthur would last. After all, he was human and without a separate ‘life source’ like Gilbert’s chances were he would not endure for too long whatever the Russian intended to do with him.

But Elizaveta had chosen to push aside such thoughts for now, they needed to focus on getting help if it could be obtained. The Grim for one was skeptical about Alin’s willingness to provide any – if there was indeed something he could do - but she knew, she had seen it in the boy’s eyes, he was interested in her. For what purposes, it didn’t matter. If placing herself at the vampire’s disposal was what it took to save Arthur, she would do it, even if she’d decided to keep Alfred in the dark about it for the time being. But truly, right now it wasn’t like she cared much if Alin was going to bleed her dry.  

“Do you people seriously have no bounds?! Are you even aware of the hour? The sun is almost up in the sky, my Master has gone to bed!”

The Bulgarian butler had answered the doorbell but stood now in the safe shade of the corridor, looking ready to slam the door in their nose.

“We need your master’s help! I realize it’s a bad time, but please, let him know that we-“

“Who cares? Why would he help _you_ , of all people?” Tsvetan hissed, taking a step forward and glaring openly at the Hungarian. “What do you think makes _you_ so special, you stupid little girl? Ha! At least Kirkland had the decency of not showing his face again this time, but you don’t have any manners, do you?”

Elizaveta’s gaze narrowed. “Because your Master likes _me_ , which can hardly be said about _you_!” she spat.

The brunet lunged forward, fangs bared and growling, and grabbed a handful of her hair – even at the risk of touching daylight – and shoved her brutally into the wall before Alfred could react. The front door was also promptly slammed in the Grim’s nose for good measure.

“YOU ARE FUCKED NOW, YOU STUPID BITCH! How dare you speak like this to me?!”  

And for a moment there, frozen with terror, Elizaveta really thought she was, until a rush of air literally swept her off Tsvetan’s grip and into a far gentler hold.

“My dear Elizaveta, in my country there is an old saying: ‘on your way to see God, the saints will eat you’. It’s of course a metaphor for abusive bureaucracy, but things aren’t much better here and Tsvetan is unfortunately a very sensitive little pain in the ass.” One arm wrapped loosely around her waist, the vampire prince took the brunette’s hand and gallantly brought it to his lips. “Now, what can I do for you?”

 

**_To be continued_ **


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! Another delay in updates, typical by now, because on one hand I’m rather overloaded with work in the office and on the other hand there’s this pestering tendency of starting a million things without finishing the other work in progress first. Basically, damn these phases! Anyway, I know you’ve been waiting for this and I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting! Without further ado, please enjoy the new chap ;)

* * *

 

“H-Help me!” Elizaveta gasped, fingers involuntarily curling into the vampire boy’s shirt. “Please… Arthur… Arthur is gone!”

Alin scowled, eyes searching hers, trying to make sense of what was going on. Again he was trying to read her mind – he probably had a habit of not placing too much trust in people’s words or capacity of self expression as it was. Still, his arm held her waist, gently, even comforting. Too bad she trusted him even less (if that was possible).

“Tsvetan,” he said sharply. “Let our other guest in as well, this is serious!”

Grumbling something indiscernible, the Bulgarian moved to the door and allowed Alfred in, throwing an open glare at the two undesirable guests. The Grim barged in with an air of desperation, but immediately composed himself upon laying eyes on his rival. _Cue dick measuring contest and wasting of more precious time_ , Elizaveta thought randomly. 

“So, Arthur was taken… in the maze?” the vampire resumed. “Huh… must have decided to investigate on his own, tch!” He scowled some more, scratching his head, and the Hungarian got from him the distinctive vibe of someone whose own interests had been thwarted. Maybe there was something he wanted from Arthur? In this case, there was a chance he would be willing to help them.  “But Elizaveta, please don’t blame yourself,” he added on a softer tone. “I’m sure that this had nothing to do with your half-assed Grim boyfriend.”  

“How can you say that?! Then why would he-“

Alin rolled his eyes and shook his head, as if his logic was somehow obvious (which clearly wasn’t). Elizaveta fleetingly wondered how the hell had all this come to happen and whether or not it would have been better to just go to jail under fraud charges and never practice as an accountant again, or even be hacked to pieces by Russian mafia. But then again, she would have never met Gilbert Beilschmidt and never in her life would she ever have felt truly _alive_ and _in love_. 

“So, can you help us or not?! I need you to get me in the maze!” she heard Alfred say. “I need to get Arthur back!”

The vampire’s gaze trailed from the frantic American to his gloomy servant and eventually back to her. And there it was again, that indefinite spark of interest, and this time a silent challenge too.

“I want to go into the maze too,” the brunette stated, firmly.

“Wha-?! Miss, no, you can’t, absolutely not!” Alfred cried, eyes wide in horror. “You can’t-… Braginski’s _maze_ or whatever the fuck that place is, nope, no, it’s no place for you! You can’t hope to make it in there and besides, Gilbert did this for you! He went there willingly because he loves you and wants to keep you safe!”

“He’s got a point,” Alin agreed, crossing his arms. “Elizaveta… the maze is a place of horrors and from what I’ve seen the setting and stuff inside keeps changing. I honestly can’t even tell you what you’ll find in there.” He paused, snorting. “Plus, you have ZERO magic skills.”  

The Hungarian scowled. “I was able to summon a Grim!” she insisted, even if from what she remembered from Arthur’s explanations, most people were able to summon Grims and form contracts. “And Alfred will be going with me! So I’ll be just fine! Do you expect me to stay behind when my best friend and the man I love are prisoners and suffering?!”

“Ah, right, you think Alfred F. Jones is the devoted Grim, ready to descend to the very depths of Hell to rescue his beloved contractor… You’re apparently blissfully unaware of his dirty little secret.”

She turned around questioningly and saw the taller blond sulking, arms crossed as he stared at his feet. A heavy silence had descended upon the room and with it the feeling that they were wasting precious time with irrelevant shit. Damn Alin, he was such a blasted troll!

“Alright… I fucked up all my previous contracts, okay?” Alfred grumbled at last, still avoiding her gaze. “And if I fuck up this one too I’ll be going to Hell permanently and be removed from the Book of Grims forever. If Arthur dies too it’s the end of it.” 

Elizaveta blinked. That really was the last thing she needed to hear right now.

“It’s not like I _asked_ for this fucking job, you know?!” the Grim went on, defensive. “It wasn’t my choice and I resented each and every single fucker sorcerer that I had to serve, so I just let them kick the bucket! Hell, didn’t think there’d be consequences to it… But it’s not because I’m incompetent, if that’s what you were suggesting!”

“No, actually it’s even worse,” Alin observed and sighed dramatically.

* * *

 

Elizaveta could feel the Bulgarian butler’s glare as they were lead into a large living room, the stone floor bare and reminding the brunette of Arthur’s ‘vault’. There were even traces of colorful pentagrams on the tiles, not quite wiped out completely, just ghostly images of past designs, but enough to give a thoroughly creepy air to the dark, barely candle-lit room.

“My dear Elizaveta,” the vampire began, still holding her hands in his. “You are a fantastic woman, I just have to say it!” His eyes were shining with unrestrained excitement now. _For some fucked up reason…_ The Hungarian felt a slight panic, brusquely wondering where this was actually going.

“Dude, are you seriously gonna pop the diamond ring and the question now?” Alfred interrupted. “Did you fucking forget what we came here for?!”

Alin ignored him. “There’s so much passion in you,” he went on unfazed, “Use it to fight! I made up my mind and if that’s what you really want, will send you into the maze.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, mind sent reeling in search of the hidden catch to the mongrel’s sudden benevolence. There must have been something, right? His barely concealed interest in Arthur and now this - like pieces of an incomplete puzzle, the links between them eluding her.

“In this purpose, I will lend you some of my magic powers, so that you can _play_ Braginski’s fucked up little game. However, the utter paradox is that the maze actually feeds on magic, so the person with the least magic innate abilities is also the least vulnerable. Crazy, right? That is to say our little Patriot here may be the best fighter of the two of you, but also the least resilient, since he is more or less pure magic essence. I wouldn’t depend too much on him if I were you. Also, that is because the maze is a game of the _mind_. If your mind is strong and you imagine yourself a strong warrior, you will prevail, if not you shall lose.”

“Um… I don’t think I fully understand what you’re saying,” the brunette pointed, confused.

Alin waved his hand. “Oh, I guess, but where there’s a will there’s a way and I suppose in the end it’s seeing and doing.” He held out his wrist and drew the tip of his black fingernail over it, slicing the skin and making crimson drops surface. “Drink my blood.”

“No way! Why would I trust-…?”

But Elizaveta was weirdly enthralled and repelled in the same time by the sight and her hand moved with a will of its own, gripping the offered arm and bringing it to her lips.

_If I’m doing it, I’m doing it all the way, now…_

And there was fire. Fire and darkness, shooting inside her very core and mingling with her own blood, taking away her breath, bringing wondrous explosions of color behind her unseeing eyes. However, the intense sensations only lasted for a couple of moments, fading away as quickly as they’d come and leaving behind an odd feeling of disappointment. She heard the Bulgarian saying something in an unknown language but with a clearly hostile tone, which went ignored by his master as the vampire boy’s eyes searched hers, again with that startling, eager curiosity.

“How do you feel?”

She blinked. “I-I don’t… know…” Now that it had passed, nothing felt any different than before.

“Good! Now you’ll need a fitting weapon,” the strawberry blond declared, walking up to the only furniture in the room, a large wardrobe of sorts, made of raw, unpolished wood. He threw the double doors open with bubbling, childish enthusiasm, and Elizaveta could sense his face-splitting grin even with his back turned. Quite an impressive weapons panel came into view inside and Alin rubbed his chin thoughtfully, examining the stuff on display.  

“Whoa! Whoa! Hold it right there!” Alfred shouted. “You can’t think to give her a weapon! She-… Well she has no combat training! In fact, I can’t believe you’re actually thinking of sending her into the maze at all, but this is too much! _What_ do you think she is?!”

“Someone _driven_ enough to do the job, to be honest,” the vampire replied bluntly. “And you, pretty boy, need to fucking drop this sexist attitude, it’s seriously so last centuries.”

The strawberry blond turned to the weapons panel again and picked a short blade, almost like a machete, and weighed the handle between his fingers, stating it was well balanced and light enough for Elizaveta’s hand. 

“Remember, wield this with your mind above all else,” Alin concluded, placing the weapon in her hands.

He closed the doors of the wardrobe, only to open them again a moment later. Only this time there was no weapons panel inside, but a gaping black hole with no visible bottom, and before the brunette could even realize what was going on, she was shoved inside head first.

* * *

 

Elizaveta screamed as she tumbled into the abyss, with nothing to hold on to but the short sword as the hole above became smaller and smaller. She fell through an endless pit walled with bricks, deeper and deeper until they were replaced by raw earth and protruding roots, and along with the landscape her appearance changed too. The long chestnut hair escaped from the ponytail and the jeans and tee she’d thrown on in a hurry were replaced by a knee-length, emerald green velvet dress and knee-high black combat boots.

She landed with a yelp onto a large haystack and from there slipped onto some hard floorboards. Immediately afterwards, the American landed next to her straight on his feet, boots thumping loudly against the wood. He was wearing a Revolutionary War red-and-blue uniform and his sword was already drawn.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

“Y-Yeah… Um… Alfred, are you mad at me?”

The blond Grim mustered a cramped, wry smile. “No, Miss. I understand why you’d want to do such a thing, but I’m worried for you regardless. After all, we don’t know what’s up ahead.”

He motioned beyond a wooden doorframe which separated the narrow space they’d landed in from a green meadow through which a winding stone-paved path lead to a cluster of buildings in ruin. Elizaveta straightened and walked up to the opening, glancing outside – the _dimension_ or whatever the hell it was held a clear resemblance to the video game rather than an actual maze, it was a space without any visible edges, a rosy-golden sky stretching over the landscape all the way to the horizon. It was also eerily quiet and peaceful looking, the grass dotted with small blue flowers and soft clouds floating above.   

Suddenly, the Hungarian had a horrible feeling about it.

“Guess we need to get going now. Better keep behind me, Miss.”

Slowly and cautiously, the two of them started down the path, keeping a keen eye on their surroundings. But nothing stirred, the air was still without the vaguest breeze, everything seemed artificial and just… dead. The brunette observed the ruins ahead, wondering if they’d find anything behind the crumbed, mold-covered walls. If Gilbert and Arthur were here, where exactly would Braginski hide them? In a dungeon? 

An odd scent hit Elizaveta’s nostrils brusquely, a sickly sweet odor which turned rapidly into something much more disgusting as they advanced, a stench of rotten flesh.  She frowned and opened her mouth to ask Alfred what the hell that could have been, but her words were cut short when the ground cracked open right in front of them and a scale-covered mass shot upwards, soaring, and she saw the grotesque head of a giant snake, forked tongue tasting the air.

“OH MY GOD!!” the Hungarian screamed, as both she and the blond jumped apart, barely missed by the snake as its head plunged back to the ground, biting off chunks of stone as it did.

They broke into a run towards the looming walls, pursued by the hideous creature. The air vibrated with its growls and hissing and the sword shook in the brunette’s hand, feeling useless. The snake twisted and turned as it crawled, ground shaking every time its massive tail smacked and lashed down.

It took forever to reach the cluster of buildings and Elizaveta had nearly lost her breath, legs feeling already wobbly with fatigue as they ducked under a stone arch. However, they needed to move further quickly, because the snake’s snout hit the outer wall in full, causing a large portion to crumble and collapse, showering them with mortar.  Yet the beast’s advance seemed to be halted momentarily, even if they could still hear it hiss and growl behind.   

Alfred kept them moving forward and the brunette followed, barely drawing her breath as she stumbled through the debris covering the floors, trying to abstain from looking at the dark corners and thinking what lurked there. The two only paused to rest a bit within the remains of a roofless brick tower, which now formed an open courtyard of sorts. Looking up, the Hungarian saw that the sky above had darkened with heavy clouds.

“What the hell-“ the American wondered, turning sharply as a sinister rumble resounded somewhere in the depth of the surrounding walls. “Miss, get ready!”

  
Only Elizaveta didn’t think she could actually fight, not now anyway. She was just too tired and scared and her wrist already ached from the weight of the blade she was carrying. And then everything happened way too fast: the bricks in front of them exploded with a blinding gush of fire and enormous tentacles shot forward, wrapping around the Grim’s body. His sword fell to the ground, clattering helplessly on the slabs.

“MISS! RUN!” he shouted, just before he was forcefully pulled away as the tentacles withdrew back into the wall, leaving a dark crumbling hole behind.

Wide-eyed in horror, the brunette dropped her own weapon, back pressing against the cold, dirty wall behind her. She could do nothing but stare numbly and motionless at the hole through which Alfred had disappeared.

_Hey, don’t crap out just yet, you’re fine! Also, stop thinking you’re in your real body, that one which can’t run a mile or take a decent leap if your life depended on it._

The voice resounding in her skull had her startled enough to jump and reach for the fallen sword again. “ALIN?! Hey! Why can I hear your voice?!” she cried.

_Because I’m in your blood now. Thought you’d need a couple of hints on the way, you know?_

“ASSHOLE! IF YOU CAN HELP, WHY’D YOU LET ALFRED GET CAPTURED?!?”

_Dearest, I’m watching over you because you’re a beginner at this, but Kirkland’s Grim should have been able to take care of himself, at his level of expertise._

Elizaveta exhaled slowly, desperately trying to pull herself back together. Alin was right and it was damn time – for now she was on her own.

**_To be continued_ **


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

A/N – Hello everyone! I know it’s been more than a month since I last updated this story, damn writer’s block and getting caught up in other things :)) Anyway, I suppose you’ve been eagerly awaiting the ‘finally some serious action’ part (I know I’ve been!). So enjoy the new chap and the new mess it brings ;)

* * *

 

Elizaveta ran a hand through her tangled locks, noticing how they’d obediently and uncharacteristically fall smoothly in place with this mere gesture – proof enough that this body was an improved version of her own, even if she hoped it that possessed more useful skills beyond self-arranging hair. The realization made her miraculously shake-off the previous weariness and her back straightened, while the grip on the blade grew firmer. Alin was right (still, what a bastard!) and she had to pull herself together and press forward, even with Alfred gone. She needed to find Arthur before anyone else, he was the one whose time would be up the soonest if they didn’t do something. 

The brunette glanced down the path among the ruined walls and beneath the crumbling stone arches - the landscape looked the same everywhere she’d look - and there was a pervasive feeling of hopelessness emanating from the surrounding debris. How was she supposed to make up her mind which way to go?

“Alin?” she whispered, eventually deciding that it was better to move on randomly rather than stay pinned fruitlessly to that fixed spot, possibly waiting for another monster to show up.

_Yes?_

“You do love me, right? You wouldn’t let me fuck this up, would you?”

_Of course not!_

“’Of course not’ what?”

The vampire laughed. _I’m not used to being asked such hard questions, and you fired two one immediately after the other! Don’t expect any clearer answers than that…_

“So where do you think he’s keeping Arthur?”

There seemed to be a clearing somewhere in the distance, visible among the ruins, and something glittered there in the fading light, like a beacon. Elizaveta headed towards it, wary at every step yet determined, ensuring that her boots were making as little noise as possible on the cracked, dirty floors.

 _I don’t know, since the setting is constantly changing as it is, but I’m guessing you won’t find him wandering alone on some green pasture… He’s probably locked somewhere._  

“Because being locked in _here_ in general isn’t enough, right?” the Hungarian snorted.

 _I meant in a building of sorts,_ Alin grumbled. _Braginski is probably dramatic enough to devise some sort of fancy dungeon for enhanced impression upon his prisoners. Where you are now is nowhere near ugly and horrid enough for his tastes, if I’m a fair judge of character, and I’ve been around long enough to be._

Well damn, a dungeon was not the kind of place she was in the mood of visiting, but the vampire must have been right. Besides, she couldn’t be so negative, just go on and do it was a better approach to things. She kept walking, the glittering object getting closer and closer until it revealed itself to be a smoothly polished metallic door, embedded into a wall which seemed to be still in one piece.

Upon reaching it, Elizaveta figured it out – it was more than just one intact wall, it was a whole building still standing. Looking upwards, she saw some iron-grated windows above, like sinisterly sewed, black mouths. She also figured out that there must have been something up with the door – it was much too shiny and new in the decrepit context of said building, as if it had been meant to draw her on purpose.

“Locked,” she observed out loud, upon trying the knob. “Ah… how do I-”

A bored sigh resounded inside her mind. _Please, allow me to help you this time_

Immediately afterwards her right leg shot up out of its own volition, slamming forcefully into the metal door with such strength that it swung open violently, crashing into the side wall inside, with a loud noise.

“That’s just great, you twat! Now if someone is inside they sure heard me coming!”

_Because you were completely inconspicuous and invisible otherwise, I’m sure of it. Just remember what I told you – fight with your mind, not anything else. It is the strength of one’s spirit which matters here._

What would Gilbert have done, the Hungarian wondered. She only wished she could have the Grim’s calm assuredness when it came to confronting something or someone, it was something innate within the Prussian, something he’d had even in his short life as a human. And if everything here relied on magic, perhaps, with enough determination and strength she could just fight as valiantly and deadly as her lover. Because he was worth it, he was worth giving her all, she concluded, stepping over the threshold.

“So, from all this mothering, I take it that you _do_ love me, your highness,” Elizaveta said ironically, walking down a narrow corridor, doing her best to ignore the red stains dotting the miserable tiled floor. A foul smell lingered in the air, reminding her of a hospital.

_As if I’d give in to this sort of unseemly flirting…_

She emerged into a larger hallway, equally filthy and poorly illuminated by flickering, dirty bulbs, the hospital impression further confirmed when she saw a rusty metal table on wheels abandoned near the wall on one side. More blood stains came into view, splattered across the floor and onto the white-and-green painted walls, and she heard the distinctive sound of a wheel-cart being pushed away somewhere close. Her fingers grew sweaty on the sword handle. A staircase showed up just around the first corner and Elizaveta went up without a second thought, instinctively seeking to get away from the noise and grumbling curses in a shaky voice.

 _Heh, this is what you get for your inability to find a living guy to fall in love with,_ Alin commented. _Dead boys are always trouble, above average and without exception._     

“I have to find Arthur, I have to find Arthur, I have to find Arthur, I have to find Arthur,” the brunette repeated like an obstinate mantra, determined to focus on her friend’s image as a last resort, while the staircase led her into another corridor and she walked mindlessly, guided solely by the blind instinct of her legs.

By now she was walking hurriedly, doing her best to ignore the occasional sinister sights on her path, guided solely by the mental mantra continuously repeated. If she had to use her mind to win this fucked-up game, she would, damn it! A creepy tune had begun playing at some point, like the obsessive ticking of a clock mixed with a broken music box, purposely made to be nerve-wracking.

* * *

 

_In there…_

The thought popped up unexpectedly in front of a rusty metal door which was currently closed, not being the vampire’s voice as up until then, but rather her own. Not needing any help this time, Elizaveta kicked it open without hesitation or difficulty, blade at the ready. 

An ancient-looking hospital room with grayish-white walls largely covered by mold came to view, devoid of furniture aside from a double bed placed approximately under a narrow, filthy window. The mattress was bare, with no sheets and badly stained, and she saw Arthur stretched on it, apparently unconscious. He looked horribly pale and thin, dressed only in a light hospital gown which barely reached mid-thigh, and his wrists were tightly cuffed to the metal sides of the bed.

Currently, two orderlies were leaning over the blond, one handling an oversized syringe which was employed to drain his blood. Elizaveta froze, muted by the sheer horror of what she was seeing, unable to as much as think. But then the ice constricting her very brain melted brusquely in a wave of blind, boiling anger and the brunette charged forward, the sword raised.

The two creatures – not human in the least – hovering above her friend had no time to even notice her presence, let alone react to the attack as the Hungarian jumped up and raised her arm, thrusting the weapon forcefully at the base of one of the orderlies’ neck. The ‘man’ collapsed to the ground, arms flailing helplessly and trying to reach the stab wound as a bloody gurgle came out of his mouth, but Elizaveta paid him no attention past ascertaining that he was no longer a threat, instantly moving onto the other with the same murderous intent. A swift slash tore the creature’s throat with frightening efficiency and only when he too dropped to the ground dead did she snap out of the killing daze and ascertained the bloody mess she’d made.

“Oh… God,” she murmured, hurrying to wipe out some of the blood which had been splattered onto Arthur’s face with the hem of her dress. She then used the blade again, on the more cautious task of breaking the Englishman’s cuffs and freeing his wrists.  

“Arthur! Arthur, wake up!” Nothing, not even a flutter of eyelids. “ARTHUR! WAKE UP, DAMN IT!” Elizaveta cried exasperated, delivering a pair of hearty slaps to the pale cheeks, decided to focus on her friend and ignore the horror which had just transpired. None of this was real anyway, right? Just some accursed magic illusion!

A groan came, then a scowl, and finally the blond got up with a start, sitting up before he was even fully awake. “H-Huh? What… what-?”

“Arthur! You’re okay?! Tell me you’re okay!” the Hungarian cried, cupping his face with both hands and trying to figure out his state. “It’s okay, I’m here Artie, I’m here now, everything is going to be okay!”

“N-No…” the young man muttered, his eyes still a bit unfocused. “L-Liz… no… Not… r-real?”

“I’m real, Artie! This is no fucked up illusion, I’m here, I’m right here with you!” Elizaveta insisted, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, even if deep down she intuited why he suddenly looked so scared.

“L-Liz-… why did you…? Why-“

The Englishman broke into loud sobs, shaking as he curled up into her arms like a helpless child. The sight broke her heart, but she had to do something fast, they had to do something, Arthur needed to pull himself together and get moving, they couldn’t stay in that place and wait for more shit to hit the fan.

“Artie, I’m sorry, but I really need you to be okay now, yeah?” the brunette pleaded, a bit more firmly. “You can’t crap out now, I-… _we_ need you to be a strong sorcerer, if we’re ever to find Gilbert and Alfred and get the fuck out of here! Listen to me, we need to move on and find Gilbert and Alfred!”

The blond rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms awkwardly and wiped his nose, sniffing. 

“Liz… I wish… “ Arthur sighed, as if struggling to muster enough breath to speak. “You should never have come here, luv. There’s no… no way out. There’s no door to this place. There’s no way… unless the contractor dies. Unless Braginski’s contractor dies.”

“Indeed, that is correct,” Alin said and Elizaveta turned abruptly, noticing the little bastard standing only a few inches away, an unsettling smile playing on his lips. There was still something off about his presence, a certain translucency which gave off the fact that he was only an illusion and not really _there_.

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” the Hungarian shouted, completely unrestrained. “YOU SENT US HERE KNOWING ONLY TOO WELL THAT WE COULDN’T COME BACK?! WHAT KIND OF MONSTER ARE YOU?!”

The vampire was unfazed by the whole outburst, dismissing it with a bored wave of his hand. “Oh please, _you_ wanted to come and besides, I only had the best of intentions. See, I knew what needed to be done, but do you think it can be, even by someone like me, when Ivan Braginski is ever vigilant? Oh no, but I figured that two Grims, a cute little sorcerer and a crazy Hungarian would be enough distraction to keep his mind busy elsewhere, do you understand, children?” 

“Why the hell would I trust you?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, why did you trust me in the first place?” The red eyes shone with mirth and again that mysterious excitement.  “So, dearest Elizaveta, are you willing to kill a human – namely Natalya Arlovskaya - to save yourself and your friends and not rot in here forever? Or maybe, do you want _me_ to kill her _for you_?”

The brunette genuinely didn’t know what to say.

“So what’s the catch to this help offer of yours?” Arthur asked in her place, seemingly having regained his full wits by now. Saying that, the blond snapped his fingers, making his clothing transform from the meager hospital gown into a full black outfit. “What do you want from us?”

Wheels started turning in Elizaveta’s head, remembering Alin’s earlier interest in her friend and his un-dissimulated disappointment upon Arthur’s apprehension by the Russian. Indeed, the vampire wouldn’t have helped them out of the goodness of his heart, he surely wanted something.

Yet Alin was blatantly ignoring the Englishman now.

“What are you willing to give me?” he asked her purposefully.

 _Willing?!_ They really didn’t have a choice, did they?! Tears began streaming down Elizaveta’s cheeks without warning. But she wouldn’t back down, if at least her friend would be spared…

“I will give you anything,” she murmured numbly, raising her hand to silence whatever Arthur wanted to say in protest.

The vampire smiled broadly, immensely pleased with the answer. “Very well, then. I’ll be sure to hold you to your word… both of you.”

* * *

 

The brunette sure felt more at ease now that at least Arthur was with her, back in full shape. Her friend’s superior strength and magic skills had made themselves shown almost instantly, as he’d been able to not only summon new clothes, but a couple of weapons as well (with which occasion she’d decided to let him handle all the fighting in the future, if it were possible).Arthur had shown no big surprise at the news of Alfred being captured, only irritation – apparently he placed no overrated hopes in the capabilities of his Grim. 

“Luv, how would you feel about some flying?” the blond asked after they’d left the ‘hospital’ behind and were once more out in the open.

“Flying?! What do you mean?”

Arthur mustered a small, wry smile in reply, pulling out his sword and quickly sketching a simple pentagram in the dirt, drawing some unknown symbols on the corners. Soon, the brunette heard something like a flutter of large wings and looked up, only to freeze in horror. A large, dark-green dragon was descending towards them in large circles, stirring clouds of dust with each movement of its wings and tail.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Elizaveta cried as the creature was getting closer and closer. “ARTHUR, TELL ME YOU’RE NOT HAVING FUN WITH THIS, GOD DAMN IT!”

 

**_To be continued_ **


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! Long time no update, I know… The Hetalia muses kind of deserted me as of late and things have also turned a bit hectic at work and I couldn’t think of anything else but now here I am! As I may or may not have mentioned before (probably not) there’s only two chaps left of this fic, namely this one and the grand finale. Hope you enjoy it to the last drop and if there’s anything you’d like to say (e.g. you’d still want Elizaveta to miraculously end up with Roddy, or Gilbert with Ivan) speak now, or be disappointed later, at the very end, instead of sooner :)). Because none of that ;)

* * *

 

Elizaveta really hated the whole flying thing. The sun glared unbearably hot and even up in the air there was no breeze, the brunette feeling the fabric of her dress clinging wetly and uncomfortably to her skin. Her body was all tense as she clung to Arthur in dread of slipping off her seat, and the lack of saddle wasn’t helping either. Down below, the patches of green, lush grass had been quickly replaced by dry, barren land, dotted with sharp-looking boulders, like teeth protruding from the hostile ground. From place to place there were even some holes filled with something like boiling tar and small flames would burst upwards from the black bubbles, adding more heat to the air.

It was truly awful and she presently had a hunch that things would soon get even worse, yet forced herself to ignore that thought. It wasn’t _real_ , none of this was real! As long as they kept that in mind, they could focus on what mattered, namely finding Gilbert and Alfred. And then…

“Do you think Gilbert will be angry with me?”

The question had popped in her mind a while back, when she was still wandering alone through the ruins. Right away she expected some nasty reply from Alin’s voice inside her head, but it didn’t come. She couldn’t see Arthur’s face either, but could feel his muscles tense slightly under her grip. Maybe he was mad at her too…

“I don’t know, luv,” he spoke eventually, in an even tone. “I mean he did everything to keep you safe and yet here you are, in Braginski’s grasp, in the bloody maze no less! I suppose he will be at least very disappointed. And I’m also expecting that idiot American to blame everything on me for getting myself pulled into the maze and all…”

“Artie, did you know that _this_ is his last contract? That if he fucks it up-…”

“Yeah.” The Englishman paused, pondering for a bit. “But you know, it’s not my fault that he purposely fucked up all of his previous contracts! It’s _his_ fuck-up and he only did it because he’s a bloody brat and he wasn’t thinking! He’s never thinking, that idiot, I mean for fuck’s sake he’s three hundred years old and hasn’t grown up at all!”

She could clearly pick up the upset in Arthur’s voice. No matter what he said, he’d grown attached to Alfred, just as she suspected that Lukas was attached to Mathias, despite their constant banter. Perhaps there was no way someone could _not_ get close to their Grim, there must have been something about the bond involved by the contract. Maybe as long as one or both parties didn’t specifically reject it, they would inherently become close.  Bathroom shags or not…

“Look! Down there!”

The brunette glanced quickly in the direction her friend was now pointing and saw a very tall, narrow and sharp tower, looming far away in the distance, its pointy roof soaring up towards a reddish sky.

“We have to go there! It could be a prison, right?!” she urged the blond, motioning for him to stir the flying beast in that direction at full speed.

_Goodness! Why don’t you take a second to appreciate the magnificence of our enemy’s creation? After all, this must be the most impressive and exciting place you’ve ever been to._

_“Don’t you fucking dare say that!”_ Elizaveta thought back immediately, instantly irritated by the vampire’s suggestion. Now with Arthur with her, she’d almost forgotten that technically he was still there – in her blood – and just how fucking annoying he was. _“It sounds like a cheap mockery and we’ve done nothing to deserve it! Besides, don’t you have other things to do right now?! I thought we had a deal!”_

_Oh, please! It was merely a practical observation, your real life is quite a mundane affair. And don’t you worry, of course I haven’t forgotten about our deal – it is in my best interest that it’s put to work as soon as possible. However, back in the real world time passes differently and unlike you and your friends, other people prefer to plan things before they blow up in their face…_

“Arthur! “ she asked, plagued by a sudden dreadful thought. “Do you think Alin did all this on purpose? Telling us about the maze and all. What if… what if that’s exactly what he wanted all along, to get rid of you?! I mean you work for that Department of Magic or some shit and maybe he thought you were a threat to him or something, especially since you had a Grim! What if he has absolutely no intention to help us?!”

Arthur laughed, a bit bitterly. “No, luv. It’s just too grand a scheme for something he could have accomplished much easier and much earlier if he’d really wanted it, and I’ve never been a threat to him anyway. So I do believe in his intention to get rid of Braginski instead – he seems to be a problem for many people and their businesses, and that’s what matters in the end.”

“But then, it’s true that he wants something with you,” Elizaveta pointed. “If I wasn’t wrong in my observations, he was disappointed by your disappearance, which means he wants something. What?”

The Englishman just shrugged, dismissing the question in a manner which she found rather odd. It was true that Alin had spoken to her when ‘negotiating’ their deal, asking _her_ what she was willing to offer, yet in the end he’d clearly pointed out that he would hold both her and Arthur to their word. It had been – now that she thought of it – as if there was something he and Arthur were privy too, but could not be said in her presence, a silent agreement between the two of them.

* * *

 

The dragon descended smoothly, with a light flutter of its massive, bat-like wings, towards the cracked and weed-infested steps at the bottom of the tower. The pair eventually slipped off his back and Elizaveta was immensely relieved to feel solid ground under her feet once more, even though the way to the tower would have been significantly longer and more difficult on foot. The two stones making up said steps were large and white-washed, hot from the glaring sun. There was something about their make which distinctly reminded of dry bones, and the Hungarian ominously thought that all this was much too easy. After Alfred’s capture, it had not taken that long for her to find Arthur and the two orderlies watching the prisoner had hardly put up a fight. After that, their flight had gone unhindered and the tower had been relatively easy to find. Everything was going much too smoothly and she told Arthur just that.

“Well, I suppose that this is a rather uncomplicated place, despite its many desolate aspects,” the Englishman pointed, while at a snap of his fingers the dragon vanished into thin air. He explained that the mere presence of the beast was taking up too much of his energy and he would probably need it elsewhere soon enough. “But there is no need to load it up with too many nasty surprises as it is, since the nastiest surprise of all, as one soon discovers, is that there’s simply _no way out_.”

That last remark made Elizaveta’s stomach cringe with dread.

The tower had a simple wooden door with solid iron hinges and several complicated locks, the devices of which crept like rusty vines over the dry and cracking splinters. Obviously it was locked but gave way quite easily, at a mere kick of Arthur’s foot. Dust erupted inside along with a whiff of stale, musty air, and the pair walked in cautiously, squinting in the freshly disturbed darkness of the stone room at the base of the building. It was completely empty, except for the narrow, winding staircase leading upwards, uninterrupted by any visible landings marking floors or the like. Instead, it seemed to go straight to a single, small room at the very top of the tower.       

“You don’t think we’ll have to climb all the way up there?” Elizaveta asked, resting her elbow on the top of the simple iron railing of the stairs and making it shake slightly, unstably. Yet it turned out to be more than a simple _shake,_ it was like a ripple which made its way upwards at incredible speed from the point of touch up the winding ribbon of metal, along with a startling sound of clattering metal.   

“No need,” the blond grumbled in reply. “Whatever it is up there has already been alerted about our presence…”

Sure enough, there was a distant, echoing rumble of something large moving in that room beneath the roof, and the Hungarian wondered how long it would take _it_ to descend down to where they were now. Maybe they should run? Hide? Do anything else but wait and face the shit head on?

 _You know, maybe you shouldn’t have said that this was too easy,_ Alin pointed. _Your gracious host wouldn’t want you to feel disappointed and bored under his humble roof…_

That fucking asshole! She looked up to see a black, swarming cloud of indefinite, winged black things going down on them with strident shrieks, a multitude of malevolent red eyes glimmering in the darkness. Shit!

“Artie! You can handle that, right?”

The Englishman rolled his eyes. “Below,” he said, kicking something with the tip of his boot – a large lid embedded in the stone floor which had been inconspicuous until then. “If there’s anything worth finding in here it’s below! Quickly!” He flipped the slab up with a mere flick of wrist and motioned towards the winding row of steps leading downwards.  

Elizaveta peered down at what didn’t look like a very encouraging prospect, yet plunged into the pitch darkness without hesitation. Arthur followed closely and slammed the lid back down, blocking the path of the flock of creatures which would have otherwise been soon upon them. They could still hear the shrieks above, now largely muffled by the stone.

A bluish bulb of glowing light showed up at the blond’s summon and floated down in front of them, illuminating the treacherous steps ahead. Now _this_ was a dungeon. The stairs had no railing and looked about to collapse, but there weren’t many of them and at least they led somewhere. A landing was visible at the bottom and an iron grated gate, pointing to the fact that this was indeed a prison.      

“Alfred is in here,” her friend said and Elizaveta’s hopes soared. They’d found them! They’d finally found them! “That idiot, I can’t believe what he’s putting me through,” Arthur continued to grumble, between obstacle-discarding spells. “He’s the fucking Grim, _he_ was supposed to protect me! Instead I made a fucking contract and it’s still _me_ going after his arse!”

The American was slumped pitifully in the corner of a cramped stone cell with no windows, his uniform dirty and tattered almost beyond recognition, his face covered in grime and hair matted with dirt hanging over his brow in disarray. The brunette cringed at the sight.  

“Wake up, you twat!” his contractor demanded impatiently. “We came to get you out of here, good God…”

“A-Arthur…” the boy stirred with difficulty and forced himself to crawl up to the grates, clutching at them weakly. “Arthur… h-he got his hands on me… he got his hands on me!”     

“He got his hands on me too, you bloody bastard!” the Englishman shouted in reply, looking ready to punch him in the face.”As a matter of fact, he’s fucking got his hands on all of us, if you haven’t noticed! Where the hell is the Prussian?! Have you seen him? Speak!”

Alfred shook his head, struggling to get up. He was barely dragging his feet and slumped again against Arthur’s frame the very moment the cell door was opened for him to get out. “I haven’t… I don’t know… but…”

“But what?!” Elizaveta nearly cried. She wouldn’t have her hopes crushed now, it was much too cruel! Gilbert had to show up, he had to! He had to be here, God damn it!

“There’s more… below…” the blond sniffed. “More cells… more, um… I think there.” He pointed to a dark, gaping hole at the end of the narrow corridor they were currently in. Possibly more steps led to another level, even deeper underground.  

The Hungarian did not wait to hear any more of it. Sword gripped firmly in her hand, she charged forward with determined steps, in the indicated direction, the bulb of light barely keeping up with her steps. Arthur too trudged forward, now burdened with his Grim’s added weight, grumbling curses.

 _Just be careful and observe closely what’s in those cells before you barge to open them,_ Alin warned. _Like I said, Braginski keeps other enemies of his in the maze, and some of them are really unsavory individuals you wouldn’t want to set free at this point…_

“SHIT! I’M SO FUCKING TIRED OF THIS SHIT!!” she yelled, stopping abruptly and throwing down the blade. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! JUST HOW MUCH FUCKING SHIT ARE WE GOING TO GET IN THIS FUCKING PLACE?!”

“Liz, calm down, calm down!” Arthur shook off his Grim and walked up to grip her shoulders, turning the brunette to face him. “Luv, you’re alright, yeah? You’re alright. We’re going to make it, yeah?”

“Ahhhhh… Alin says,” she panted, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Alin says that there might be other people… others in here… that we don’t want to run into.

“Yeah, but they’re fucked by now, just like I was before you came to rescue me, just like Alfred, look at him. It’s going to be alright, okay? Listen to me – Gilbert is your Grim, you still have the tattoo, which means that your bond endured. Focus on that, okay? Focus on _feeling him_ , just like you did before we got into the maze, do that and we’ll find him in no time if he’s really here.”

Feel him.

Elizaveta allowed herself to relax, feeling as if she was sinking into deep, murky water. Her eyelids dropped and shoulders sagged, feet stumbling as she started forward, mind empty of any other thought but her beloved’s image. Distantly, she could still hear Arthur and Alfred whispering hurriedly between them, but could not make out any clear words.

Nothing mattered.

She and Gilbert belonged to each other.

There was nothing else but this one, irrefutable truth.

“Liz!”

“Huh?” The brunette’s eyes opened slowly, sleepily, and she muttered as if suddenly pulled out of a pleasant dream.

“Liz… look.”      

She did. In front of her, on a marble dais which shone wickedly in the pale light of the floating bulb, there was an open coffin.

**_To be continued_ **


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

A/N – Hello everyone! I don’t know if I said this before – I think not, but this is the last chapter of our little tale of terror. That’s right, I dragged it too long (not the plot but the updating) and for that I am sorry. So, to make it up to you guys, I’m making a final longer chap, so that you can find out how this ends and be at peace that Gilbert didn’t end up with the (very) wrong person ;)) Just kidding, but still. Enjoy it and again thank you so much for being with me in this, I’ve been having so much fun writing this story!

* * *

 

“I don’t think you should be doing this.”

Alin had finished adjusting the smooth black leather gloves while on his way out and now looked up quizzically at his servant, being met with a deep scowl. Tsvetan had crossed his arms and almost looked intent on blocking his path.

“You’re an idiot,” the prince said with a bored sigh.

“You keep saying that!”

“You keep confirming it! What the hell is your problem now?!”

The Bulgarian stepped closer, nearly invading his master’s personal space. His hand reached up and only in the last moment controlled the urge to grip the other’s shoulder. He had no right to touch Alin, this hand had hurt the prince before and he’d sworn-…

“You’re taking a great risk going against Ivan Braginski’s contractor, and for what?! For _that woman_!” He paused, inhaling sharply. “You think I didn’t see how you look at her?! You’re _taken_ with her!”

“Is that what you truly think, Tsve? That I’m so taken with her? Smitten with her, even?” Alin’s mouth curled up in amusement, underneath which his servant could intuit a hint of cold cruelty, directed at him. “Good. It means that everyone else must have thought the same, including her,” He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? It was a maneuver.”

“Wha-“

The prince looked irritated at having to explain openly what his intentions were. “Do you remember when Arthur Kirkland first came here, looking to recruit me for his pathetic little institution?”

 The brunet nodded, still a little circumspect. “Yes. You refused him.”

“Of course I did, I am a prince, I don’t work _for_ anyone,” Alin replied, raising his chin. “But he does have potential, so I thought that _he_ could work for _me_.”

“Oh God… This is even worse.”

* * *

 

Elizaveta had dropped down on her knees in front of the dais, hands clenched on the edge of the coffin. At first she’d wanted to lunge forward and reach Gilbert, touch him, shake him awake, scream and cry out his name until her throat got sore, but when it had come to it her limbs had lost her strength. The Prussian was laying there as if in slumber, pale and beautiful in the most dreadful and heartbreaking of ways, his elegant uniform looking perfect and creaseless, his hands crossed onto his chest over the hilt of his sword and she could do nothing but stare mutely, motionlessly, without as much will left as to even weep.

“What… “ Arthur turned to his Grim, questioningly. “What happened to him?” 

The American shrugged, looking helpless. “Well, I guess he’s dead. That’s why he’s in a coff-“

“IDIOT!” Arthur snapped immediately.”Of course he’s dead, he’s a bloody Grim, he’s been dead to begin with and so are you, did you forget that, you useless bastard?! What I’m asking you is why he isn’t conscious! What do you think Braginski did to him?! How can we wake him up, for fuck’s sake?!”

Alfred sighed, pushing past him to kneel next to the brunette and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Miss, I don’t think he’ll wake up… Not here he won’t, whatever Braginski must have done to him, that magic is just too strong in this place and we can’t hope to pull him out of it. I’m sorry, I really am. But if the vampire prince doesn’t make good on his promise-“

“I don’t care what happens, to me at least,” Elizaveta murmured absently, finally moving her hand to touch Gilbert’s cheek. It was cold like the wind-hardened ice in the dead of winter. “If he’s gone… there’s no point…”

She couldn’t think, pretty much reverted to that numb, zombie-like state she had been in upon first discovering that he was gone and reading that awful letter. At least now she couldn’t feel Gilbert suffering anymore, but it wasn’t much of an improvement as it was. They belonged to each other, the bond made it impossible for them to exist apart, yet the Prussian had not understood that and it pained her that he’d thought she could make a life for herself without him. He’d left to keep her safe, he’d given himself up to keep her safe, but she didn’t want to be safe! She wanted _to be with him_.   

“Idiots,” the Englishman said again, his irritation having momentarily melted down into a sort of exasperated sadness. “He is still here, and if he is it means that his spirit hasn’t gone back to Hell yet. And that much should be bloody obvious, because Liz is still alive and they’re bound to one another. This is just one of those shitty spells we can’t figure out, but he’s not gone! Either way, I don’t think we should-”

His words were cut short when the ground began to shake violently and the blond lost his balance, effectively toppling over Elizaveta’s crouched frame. Crumbled mortar fell from the walls and there was a loud, deep rumble coming from the bowels of the earth, deafening and terrifying.

“Good God, do you think he wants to bury us alive in this dungeon?!” Arthur cried as the three of them huddled on the floor together next to the coffin. “Liz, we need to get out of here!”

“No, I can’t…”

“Miss, I’ll carry him!” Alfred said, standing and stooping over the sinister crate to pick up his fellow Grim. “Arthur is right, we need to get out of here! Now!”

He lifted Gilbert’s limp form into his arms effortlessly after having hurriedly tucked the sword into his sheath at the other’s thigh, while the Englishman used his whole strength to haul the brunette up to her feet and push her towards the exit. The blue light bulb created by Arthur’s magic was flickering dangerously as they walked – threatening to go out brusquely - a sign that his magic was beginning to fade for some reason. The group made their way up the treacherous staircase leading to the surface and once they were near the heavy stone lid blocking the entrance Elizaveta fleetingly heard her friend curse and wonder whether the creatures they’d managed to avoid before would still be there, waiting for them.

Still grumbling, Arthur uttered a quick spell and flipped the slab upwards, clearing the way, both he and Alfred set in position to fend off a potential attack. But the red-eyed giant bats or whatever the hell those things had been were nowhere to be seen now as they climbed out of the dungeon and looked around the small room at the base of the tower. The shaking continued and the upper walls had begun to crumble as well, mortar and pebbles trickling and raining down everywhere.  

Out in the open the strange phenomenon continued, much to their dismay amplified even more. The colors of the sky were melting and mingling with one another, pouring down like dirty soap suds, leaving behind nothing but the stony grey of blank, ugly walls. The boulders sticking out from the ground were turning to dust, everything around them was blurring and collapsing at ever increasing rate. The maze itself was dying, rotting away, depleted of its magic and reduced to what it really was – a vast prison of emptiness, surrounded from all sides by naked walls. And then large cracks appeared into those very walls, creeping all over their surface unforgiving, bringing the imminent doom.

Sheer panic had pulled Elizaveta out of her daze upon finally realizing what was going on. Was this how it was going to end, for all of them?! Was this really it? She had fought and lost, and now she had no more strength left. It was over, either way. It was-…        

Everything turned into a black, endless void. And there were no more thoughts.

* * *

 

“You don’t want to be a vampire, do you? I tell you, it’s not a fortunate choice,” a voice said, but the Hungarian’s bleary eyes could only make out the cracks and tiny peelings of the high ceiling above, visible among the restless flutters of the delicate, almost ethereal spider webs moved by the faint draft of air. “I did this to my master, a long time ago… and he never forgave me for it. Never. He made me feel his unyielding cruelty every single moment, but it’s well deserved. I made him suffer and if you make this choice, you too will suffer, bitterly.”

“W-What?”

Elizaveta managed to tilt her head for a bit and saw the creepy Bulgarian butler leaning over her, his surreal forest-green eyes scrutinizing her face and seemingly trying to figure out her thoughts. What was going on?! She realized that she was stretched on a soft sofa and she seemed to be back at the vampire prince’s mansion, but-

“Tsvetan, I don’t keep you here as my servant so that you can troll my guests! Now off you go and give us all a break, will you?! It’s been a very long day!”

The Bulgarian disappeared from her view, grumbling what were probably curses in his native tongue, replaced by Alin’s smirking face.

“Now, then… where were we? Ah, yes! Welcome back, Elizaveta!” 

All exhaustion and haziness the brunette had been currently experiencing vanished as if by miracle, giving way to instant annoyance upon seeing the presumptuous little bastard. She struggled to sit up despite her mostly numb limbs, failing and getting herself even more worked up as a result. 

“Damn you!” she spat, earning a raise of the prince’s fine eyebrows. “What have you done to us?! Where’s Gilbert?!”

He scowled a bit, but his overall self-contentedness seemed to endure. “Well, I am already damned, all I did was to get rid of Braginski and consequently free you from the maze and Gilbert… eh, let’s just say that he isn’t any _deader_ than he used to be.”

“I want to see him! Now!”

“He’s fine, really,” Alin reassured her, waving his hand dismissively. “But there is a little problem you and Arthur need to sort out before anything else and your Grim boyfriend has no say in this, for which reason I considered that it’s best he and that revolutionary brat be elsewhere for the moment.”

Elizaveta blinked, feeling a sudden cold shudder down her spine. This was it – the prince wanted his payment for his help and the time had come for him to claim it. And she’d promised to give him _anything_. She nodded slowly.

“I understand… So, what do you want?”

Alin chewed on his bottom lip, as if pondering on to how best phrase his request. Eventually he said “I want you and Arthur to go on living, that’s all.”

Only that was _not_ all, the Hungarian figured out, recalling what the butler had said earlier. Now she knew what the prince wanted. She knew what he was asking. Her eyelids dropped heavily as she took a sharp breath. She didn’t know what that even entailed, but it must have been something evil, otherwise Tsvetan wouldn’t have warned her. He’d said with his own mouth that his master was cruel.

“Look, Elizaveta, I’ll be honest with you. Right now, both you and Arthur are dying. The time you spent in the maze has simply eaten up too much of your vital energy and as things are, you don’t have much longer. And I cannot save your lives, I can only give you the only gift I have, as dark as it may be,” the strawberry blond said softly.   

“And what will happen to the Grim contract? If I die either way, Gilbert will go back to hell, won’t he?”

“No. If you and Arthur become vampires, you will be _undead_ and so your contracts will become permanent.” The boy laughed. “I don’t think the American will be very happy about it…” 

“Why the hell would I believe you?! And what… what about my family?! If I… your servant said I would suffer bitterly if I was to become like you!”

Alin pursed his mouth and scowled again, all signs of good-humor gone from his face this time. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair, genuinely looking like the troubled teen he must have been a very long time ago and for once seeming at a loss for words, deserted by his silver tongue. 

“Did Tsvetan turn you into a vampire?” the brunette asked softly, trying to figure out the prince’s intentions. Maybe he was lonely in this big, decrepit mansion, stuck with the Bulgarian butler who annoyed the hell out of him?

“No. Baba Yaga turned me into a vampire,” the boy said eventually. “Tsvetan just killed me. But then, what do you know, he was sorry and he wanted to fix it.” He sighed. “Look, he only said those things because he’s jealous and a bitter bastard himself. He thinks I love you and proof of that is that I’m offering to make you like us.” Alin leaned in, drawing his face closer to hers. “But you know that’s not true, right? You do give me more credit than that?”

Elizaveta nodded, tired.

Alin smiled. “Now that Braginski is gone – by the way, my endless gratitude for this fantastic opportunity – I figured that even greater expansion of my affairs is in order and I found it very useful if both you and Arthur (of course, especially Arthur) were to become my vampiric children and thus part of my coven, together with your Grims. While I cannot promise you that we’ll all be one happy family, I can assure you that you will see plenty of advantages in your new situation. So, what do you say?”

He was telling the truth – she was dying. She tried to think, to make sense of the implications of what the prince was asking, of what would happen to Feliks and Toris, her aunt, her job… And how was Arthur dealing with this? Had he accepted already? But it was too hard, much too hard to focus, it was hard to put up any more fight, any more struggle, it was too hard to breathe even.

“Gilbert is free from Braginski’s grasp… at least… For that, I will keep my word to you. Do… what you want with me…”

* * *

 

“Elizaveta.”

A touch of smooth fingers tracing the side of her cheek pulled the brunette from the soothing depths of death-like slumber and her eyelids fluttered open shyly, warily even. Upon coming to her senses fully, she realized that she was lying inside a lidless coffin and Gilbert was resting his forearm on the edge, leaning over her with an unreadable expression.

“Gilbert… did I… fuck this up?” she breathed out, almost inaudibly.

His fingers returned to her face, stroking softly, but the Prussian looked sad now, endlessly sad. “Elizaveta, I never, ever vanted zhis to happen to you! I zhought it vas just a vhim,” he spoke eventually, shaking his head. “I zhought it vould pass…” 

“A _whim_?!” Elizaveta felt her eyes fill with tears. “Whose whim?!”

“Yours.” Gilbert bit his lip, looking away. “I zhought… “ He withdrew his hand and pulled away from the coffin, sitting awkwardly on the carpeted floor. “Vhat… vhat about zhe Austrian?”  

The Hungarian sat up abruptly, intent on saying something sharp in reply even as her tears threatened to spill, but then… he was right. She’d made such a fuss about her unrequited love for Roderich and then she’d slept with Gilbert in a moment of pure despair, it was only that between them, the only time she’d truly given any attention to him and it _did_ look like a whim.

“Wow, I’m really bad at this, ain’t I? I keep fucking everything up.” She buried her face in her hands, helpless. How could she make him understand that the whole thing with Roderich had been a silly, almost childish infatuation?! What could she say that would not make her look like a whimsical, fickle woman who didn’t know what she wanted?

“Nein.” She looked up from her hands and saw the Grim fidgeting. “Nein, you didn’t fuck anyzhing up. I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful fur everyzhing you’ve done fur me, it’s just zhat I… no one has ever loved me before. Und I meant vhat I said in zhat letter, aber ich weiss nicht, wie das zu erledigen. Ich kann nicht…” 

“What?”

Gilbert stood up and gripped her waist, pulling her out of the coffin, the brunette feeling instantly soothed by being pressed against his strong, warm body. Her chin was tilted up and the Prussian pressed his forehead against hers, while gently wiping the tears off her pale cheeks.

“I love you! I love you but I may not be very good at zhis… No one has ever loved me before,” he confessed with endearing shyness and Elizaveta smiled through renewed tears of joy, pressing her lips against his with a relieved sigh.

“I love you too, Gilbert Beilschmidt!”

A second later their sweet moment was promptly interrupted by a startling sound of something breaking, which Elizaveta’s newly sharpened hearing perceived much more amplified than she normally would have.

“IT WAS A DIRTY TRICK!!! FOUL PLAY! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?! NOW I’LL BE STUCK WITH THIS FUCKING RED COAT FOR FUCKING FOREVER!!” they heard Alfred yelling somewhere down the hallway.

 _Oh shit_ , the Hungarian thought, quickly brought down from the romantic high and among the less exhilarating matters of their new situation. Because yes, she had Gilbert back and they were finally together, but otherwise old shit had been more than successfully replaced by new shit, courtesy of a certain little bastard.    

“Oh well,” she said still smiling, reaching down and entwining her fingers with the Grim’s. “Looks like this is going to be one hell of a forever after, after all.”  

“Ja, zhe avesome me feels zhat zhis vill not go so smoothly…”

  

**THE END**


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